


Winteriron Prompt Fills - 2015

by 27dragons



Series: imaginetonyandbucky fills [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: M/M, Prompt Fill, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-24
Updated: 2015-12-18
Packaged: 2018-03-19 08:37:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 60
Words: 76,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3603543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/27dragons/pseuds/27dragons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Short (under 3000 word) prompt fills originally written for the <a href="http://imaginetonyandbucky.tumblr.com/">imaginetonyandbucky</a> blog during 2015. (Prompt fills over 3000 words will be posted as standalone fics.) The prompts, along with rating and applicable warnings, will be provided in the chapter summary for each fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 12-Feb-2015: Secretly Dating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Rating:** T
> 
> **Prompt:** imagine Tony and Bucky dating semi-secretly (Pepper and Steve knows but no one else) when Tony gets kidnapped, maybe for the typical ransom or weapon making, and Bucky gets inpatient with the search team trying to find Tony. so he goes and finds Tony on his own, kicks ass, and saves his boyfriend. cue cuddling (or making out because Tony does find Bucky sexy in that combat outfit he made him) afterwards on the couch. -Anonymous
> 
> **Warnings:** None

“I might have already told Pepper.”

Bucky snorted. “Pepper doesn’t count. Pepper knows how many nose hairs you’ve got,  _of course_  she knows who you’re sleeping with.”

“First: ew. Second: probably. And third: are you sure? I don’t want you to think I’m ashamed of us. I’d shout it from the rooftops right this second if you wanted. Put on the suit and sky-write it. …Huh, I wonder if I could actually—”

“Do not sky-write anything, Tony,” Bucky sighed. Tony’s fingers were twitching as if they were already calculating the best way to attach sky-writing aparatus to the armor, so Bucky laced their fingers together to stop him. “It’s just… gonna be a circus when people start figuring it out. Barton alone will have a million smart-ass comments.”

“Steve will make him be nice to us.”

“You really don’t know Steve that well, do you?”

“No?”

“No. Just… I want to have you to myself in peace and quiet for a little while.”

“Okay,” Tony agreed, snuggling closer, resting his head against Bucky’s metal shoulder.

***

Bucky ran into the situation room, still fastening the new armor Tony had made him. “What’s up?” he demanded.

Steve and Natasha and Bruce were already there. Bruce made sense, but how Steve and Nat got into their skin-tight uniforms so quickly, Bucky had no idea. It was beyond— “Wait,” he said, as Bruce’s answer finally registered. “Say that again?”

“Tony’s been kidnapped,” Bruce repeated. He wasn’t looking at Bucky, his hands already fast at work on the three screens in front of him. One of them appeared to be security footage from the fundraising event Tony had been at.

When Clint came in and Natasha filled him in, Steve took advantage of their distraction to give Bucky a sympathetic look. “We’re gathering our intel as fast as we can,” Steve said. “As soon as we have something definite—”

“Screw definite,” Bucky snapped. He snatched the screen away from Bruce, ignoring the scientist’s protest, and narrowed his eyes at it. The constant low simmer of knowledge and skills he’d never wanted came to a sudden hot boil as Bucky scanned the footage, absorbing layout, cover, faces, shapes… His vision flared white for an instant when he saw what he was looking for, and then he was gone, unheeding of Steve and Natasha calling after him.

***

“You’re sure this is the worst of it?” Bucky demanded, pushing Tony’s hand aside so he could clean and bandage the minor wound on Tony’s temple.

“Yeah,” Tony said. “You were in the compound before they even had a chance to get started. All I had to do was sit and watch the show.” He ran his hand down the front of Bucky’s chest. “The very sexy show.”

Bucky snorted and closed the first aid kit before tossing it onto the far side of the couch. “You’re not going to any more of those things without me there to protect you,” he said.

“Is that so?” Tony asked with a proprietary smile. “What if I just don’t go to any more of those things, period, and you and I stay here and do something more fun?”

Bucky laughed and pulled Tony into his lap. “What did you have in mind?”

"Well…" Tony leaned down to whisper in Bucky’s ear, except he wasn’t whispering anything, just nibbling and licking, and  _oh_ , that was nice right there—

“Where the hell did you— Oh.  _Oh._  Well, that explains a lot,” Natasha said from the doorway.

Bucky startled, but Tony just hummed and started sucking a hickey on Bucky’s neck.

“We, uh—” Bucky started. Bruce was right behind Natasha, his eyebrows climbing toward his hairline.

“Oh god, my eyes!” Clint groaned from somewhere in the ceiling.

Well. It was out now. Might as well take advantage. “Fuck you, Barton,” Bucky said, and captured Tony’s chin in his metal fingers, lifting his face for a kiss.


	2. 12-Feb-2015: Previous Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Rating:** T
> 
> **Prompt:** imagine Tony and Bucky having met before. maybe when Tony was 16 and young at MIT and Bucky's there for some secret HYDRA business. Bucky's first thought (which is odd for him since he's still the Winter Soldier) is 'oh no he's cute'. then years later when Steve brings him to Avengers Tower he sees Tony again, remembering that cute 16 year old, but now it's 'oh no he's hot' instead of oh no he's cute. maybe Nat could see this and makes it her job to get them together. -lillkogobean
> 
> **Warnings:** None

2313\. Forty-seven minutes until the traitor arrived to meet secretly with his friend, the professor, and hand over the stolen experimental data.

The Soldier’s primary objective was to recover the data before it fell into the wrong hands. The secondary objective was to dispose of the traitor, preferably without drawing undue attention.

The Soldier walked into the building, pack slung over his shoulder and gait easy, as he had observed students walking around the campus earlier. The building was unlocked. Academic buildings had lax security. The professor’s office was locked, and should remain so in order to avoid causing suspicion, but would be easily accessible through the crawlspace in the ceiling.

The easiest access point for the ceiling was in the lab on the next hallway. The Soldier went to the lab.

The Soldier stopped as he entered the lab: there was a student there, against expectation. The student was slumped in a seat, head pillowed on folded arms, a black cloud of short, messy hair curling against the student’s fingers. There were several books open on the table, and a scatter of pieces from some partially-assembled object.

The student appeared to be sleeping. The student might continue to sleep while the Soldier climbed into the ceiling. Or the student might awaken and witness unexpected activity.

The Soldier had been instructed to avoid drawing attention. It would be best to deal with the student before commencing the mission. The Soldier consulted the clock: 2327.

The Soldier hid his left hand in his jacket pocket, then put his right hand on the student’s shoulder and shook gently. “Wake up.”

The student made a noise expressive of displeasure. “G’way, Rhodey.”

"Wake up," the Soldier repeated, slightly louder. He shook the student again.

The student made another noise, and rolled his head to the side, the messy hair falling over his face, unheeded. The student was significantly younger than most of the other students the Soldier had observed. His features were round and soft, facial hair sparse. The student’s eyes opened, dark and bruised with exhaustion. He blinked at the Soldier, then lifted his head and smiled. “Well, hello there, hot stuff.”

_What a cutie!_

The Soldier froze. That thought had not come from him. Had it?

_Look at those lips. Bet he kisses like a dream._

The Soldier did not evaluate attractiveness. Or desirability. Neither had any bearing on mission parameters. The Soldier looked at the clock: 2334. “You should go home,” the Soldier said.

Those ( _kissable_ ) lips stretched into a smile that looked somehow familiar. “You gonna come with me? Make sure I get tucked into bed?”

The Soldier did not have desires, and so the Soldier did not want to tuck the student into a warm bed, or curl around him protectively. The Soldier did not want to bury his hands in that messy hair to soothe the student to sleep. The Soldier  _most certainly_  did not want to kiss the smirk from the student’s mouth, or try to find out what the student sounded like when—

"Go home," the Soldier said, more sharply than intended. "Go to sleep."

The student sighed and started shoving his half-assembled machine and his books haphazardly into a bag, pouting and mumbling something about hypervigilant TAs. The Soldier did not know what a TA was, but given the lax security of the building, he thought that someone certainly  _ought_  to be vigilant.

The Soldier kept his face impassive as the student finished gathering his things and slumped out of the lab, and then checked the clock: 2342. He would have to move quickly to be in position in time to complete his mission.

And when he returned to base, he would have to remember to report the strange voice in his head.

***

It was Natasha who met them when the elevator doors opened, and Bucky relaxed, just a little. He knew Natasha.

"Glad you decided to come today," she said, and offered her hand. "Let’s go meet everyone."

Bucky liked that she hadn’t asked if he was  _ready_  to meet them. Natasha rarely asked questions that didn’t have answers. He considered taking her hand, but then decided against it. He had Steve at his back, and the whole point of this farce was to show the team that he was standing on his own feet again, right?

Natasha accepted the shake of his head with a slight nod, then turned and led the way into — oh, God — a large, open room that seemed full the the  _brim_  with noise and color and people.

Steve had shown Bucky pictures and even movies so he could learn their names, but mere pictures had not prepared him for the reality that was the Avengers. Bucky stopped dead in the doorway, barely able to resist the urge to cling to it for dear life. Thor and Barton and Col. Rhodes were playing a video game and loudly berating each other. Dr. Foster and Dr. Banner were leaning over a tablet, head-to-head and arguing vociferously in language so jargon-filled that it might as well have been Martian. Sam and Ms. Potts and a slender, dark-haired woman that Bucky couldn’t identify were at a side-table, discussing what appeared to be takeout menus with a vehemence that rivaled some Bucky had witnessed over battle plans. And in the far corner by the floor-to-ceiling windows, Stark was standing with his back to the room, a phone held to his ear with one hand and the other gesticulating emphatically, as if whoever he was talking to might be able to see it.

Steve put a hand on Bucky’s shoulder and squeezed. Bucky was grateful; the touch was grounding. Natasha just watched him, waiting, and he was grateful for that, too. After a moment, he gave her a nod and she slipped sideways into the room, easing effortlessly into the noise and movement like a diver sliding into water. Bucky followed with far less grace, his every step causing a splash and a ripple.

Natasha was leading him toward the group at the table, Bucky thought, and that was good. He already knew Sam, and he thought he might have met Ms. Potts once before, though his memories of his first weeks back were uncertain and foggy.

"—not going to go down there and do their jobs for them!" Stark growled into the phone, waving his free arm angrily. "And you can tell them I said that!" He stabbed at his phone with one finger as he turned back toward the room. "I swear, I don’t know if I need to fire the entire—" His eyes lit on Bucky, and he paused in surprise.

So did Bucky. “Hot stuff,” he murmured, and his eyes widened as he realized he’d said it aloud. He almost apologized and took it back, except—

Well, he  _was_. Not like Steve, who was almost cartoonishly good-looking with his enormous muscles and fierce eyes and square jaw, but in the way of a man who was easy in his body, loose-limbed and wiry, balanced on the balls of his feet but relaxed about it. There were callouses on his hands and a bruise on his cheek and crows-feet at the corners of his eyes; he was a man who knew how to work and how to fight and how to laugh. His eyes were dark with secrets and bruised with exhaustion. Tony Stark was  _achingly_  beautiful.

Bucky had to remind himself to breathe.

Natasha was watching him with just a hint of a smile. “Come on,” she said, changing the angle of her trajectory. “Let me introduce you to Tony.”

Bucky followed helplessly in her wake. Steve was saying something to Natasha, but Bucky wasn’t listening. He couldn’t take his eyes off Tony.

Tony couldn’t seem to take his eyes off Bucky, either. But if he recognized Bucky from that late night nearly three decades ago, he didn’t mention it. He offered a hand for Bucky to shake without a hint of hesitation, and when Bucky took it, his eyes lit up with his smile, and his touch lingered for a moment longer than necessary.

***

It turned out that Bucky had been right, all those years ago.

Tony kissed like a dream.


	3. 15-Feb-2015: Trans Male Tony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Rating:** T
> 
>  **Prompt:** imagine Tony and Bucky starting to date and while Tony is happy he's still scared because Tony was assigned female at birth and had transitioned when he was younger so he's scared that Bucky will leave him when they finally get to having sex and he sees Tony doesn't have a penis. Bucky doesn't care though, he's fallen for the snarky billionaire and proceeds to show just how much he cares (maybe by going down on Tony and giving him the best orgasm he's ever had?) -Anonymous
> 
>  **Warnings:** None

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Русский translation [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6196819). Thank you, [Heidel](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Heidel/pseuds/Heidel)!

Kissing Bucky was at least the fifth-best thing that had ever happened to Tony. Maybe the fourth. Top five, for sure, anyway. Bucky was definitely, absolutely, the very best kisser that Tony had ever had the privilege to kiss and be kissed by. Top of the heap. By a lot. A huge margin.

 _God_ , but Bucky could kiss. There was never a single moment, kissing Bucky, that Tony had even an  _inkling_  of suspicion that Bucky’s mind was anywhere but right here, kissing Tony back. No doubt at all in Tony’s mind that when Bucky leaned in for a kiss, his entire goal was making Tony’s knees go weak with pleasure.

And here they were on the couch, kissing and squirming, hands roaming. Their shirts had come off, and Bucky responded  _brilliantly_  when Tony used just a little hint of teeth, and the metal hand clenched in Tony’s hair and Tony  _loved_  that, it was probably his third — no, fourth-favorite thing about Bucky.

Bucky pushed Tony back to return the favor and Tony was on fire the instant Bucky’s tongue flicked across Tony’s nipples. “God,  _god_ , Bucky, that feels so good,” Tony groaned.

"Yeah," Bucky returned hoarsely. "Yeah, Tony, you’re so amazing." He nibbled delicately and Tony’s back arched of its own volition and a whimper forced its way out of Tony’s throat. Bucky chuckled, soft and low. "God, I can’t wait to suck your dick."

Shit.

 _Shit_.

That was it, that was it, that was the end. The death knell.  _Ask not for whom the bell tolls_.

"Tony?" Bucky had pulled away, looking confused and slightly alarmed by the way Tony had suddenly frozen. "Tony, I’m— What’s wrong?"

"Nothing," Tony responded, though his mouth was on autopilot because this — the best thing that had happened to Tony in  _years_  — was about to be done, and damn it, he’d _known_  it was going to end like this, but he hadn’t really been  _prepared_  for it. His hands clenched on Bucky’s shoulders, wanting to hold on just a little longer, but then he forced himself to let go, to sit up and draw away to the far side of the couch.

Bucky was looking downright panicked now. “Okay, okay, I shouldn’t have said that, I’m sorry—”

"No! No, it’s not you, you didn’t…" Tony growled in frustration. He pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. "It’s not your fault. You didn’t know."

Bucky hesitated. “Didn’t know what, Tony?”

Tony took a deep breath. This moment, he reminded himself, was always going to happen. He’d said yes when Bucky asked him out, already knowing that this moment was going to happen eventually. He was lucky he’d gotten so much time leading up to it. Still, he closed his eyes tightly and tucked his face into the crook of his arm, not wanting to see Bucky’s reaction. “I don’t have a dick.”

Bucky didn’t answer for a long moment. Tony could feel himself slowly hunching even further, trying to disappear into the cushions. Finally, he heard an intake of breath and braced himself to hear, “You don’t have— Did. Did someone… Did it get cut off?”

Tony almost laughed. How much easier would it be to explain that he’d been born into the proper body and then someone had mutilated him? That was something that could be understood, if it had been someone else’s fault that Tony was damaged. Maybe Bucky would be willing to keep dating him, then.

But Tony wasn’t dumb. As soon as Bucky saw Tony undressed… well.

"No," he said miserably. "I, I was."  _Fuck_ , it never got any easier. “I was assigned female at birth.”

"I’m sorry," Bucky said, barely audible over Tony’s pounding heart. "I don’t understand."

So few did. “Most people would say I was born a girl,” Tony said. Without lifting his head, he waved a hand in the general direction of his crotch. “No dick, no balls. Perfectly healthy and normal girl parts. Except that I’m—”  _Confused. Crazy. Broken_. “—not a girl. In my brain. I was always a guy, male, in my own head.”

Bucky breathed in and out a few times, his breaths harsh — was that the remnant of the makeout, or the beginning of his panicked response to what Tony was telling him?

"But you have a beard," Bucky said. "And no, uh, breasts." He sounded confused, not mad.

Mad would probably come later, after the shock wore off.

"Hormone replacement therapy gets me the extra body hair." Tony said it as dispassionately as he could, like reading off a pamphlet, though he suspected his voice was trembling a little. "Had surgery when I was twenty-three to do the chest. Best doctors money could buy. You have to know you’re looking for it to find the scars."

"Huh. So you’re like… half-man, half-woman?"

"No," Tony said, letting a hint of anger color it. He’d spent too long fighting — with his parents, with Obie, with his doctors, with  _himself_  — to let anyone take his hard-won identity away from him. “No. I’m a man. Who happens to have a vagina.” He made himself take a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to ignore how shaky it emerged.

"Okay," Bucky said. "Sorry. Sorry, I’m… This is new."

"Yeah," Tony sighed. Trans guys in Bucky’s time, if they were lucky, ran away to where no one knew them and lived in dread of being found out, or they were thought insane and institutionalized. "I’m sorry, too. It’s… hard."

"I guess so." There was a pause, and then Bucky said, "Will you help me? Teach me what I should know?"

He didn’t sound mad. That was something, Tony guessed. Maybe they could still work together. “Sure,” he said, aiming at casual. “I’ll send you some links or something. Plenty of reason to be up to date on this. Lots more trans people now — or at least, lots more openly trans people — than in your day.”

"Okay," Bucky said again, sounding far too calm. "But I meant, will you teach me for yourself? For us?"

Tony was startled into looking up. Bucky was still sitting in the same spot on the couch, his forehead wrinkled in concern, and his arm was laid across the back of the couch, almost as if it was reaching out toward Tony. “What us?” Tony blurted.

"The… you-and-me us?" Bucky said, suddenly confused again. Then, before Tony could say anything, clarity struck and his eyes flew open wide for an instant before they narrowed. "Did you think I was gonna dump you ‘cause of that?" Bucky demanded.

"…Yes?"

Bucky frowned. “Your opinion of me must be pretty low.”

Tony snorted. “The historical data presents a fairly solid case.”

Bucky blinked, the frown fading as he worked his way through it. “You’re saying that’s happened a lot. That guys’ve legged it when they found out you weren’t packing.”

Tony rolled his shoulders in something like a shrug. “Ladies, too. Apparently vaginas are scary.”

Bucky laughed at that, and scooted closer on the couch. “I’ve dated a fair number of dames,” he confided, as if that was anything like a secret. “I haven’t been scared by lady-parts since I was about nineteen.”

"Sure, but when they’re attached to—mmmph!" Tony’s mouth was suddenly covered. By Bucky’s.

Bucky was kissing him.

Bucky was  _kissing_  him.

Bucky was kissing  _him_.

With tongue. Lots and lots of tongue.

Tony couldn’t resist Bucky’s kisses. They were the fourth — no, third best thing that had ever happened to him. He melted into it, and let Bucky pull him closer.

Every time they broke for air, Tony started to say something and Bucky would dive right back in to shut him up and pull him even closer. Tony ended up sitting on Bucky’s lap, panting into Bucky’s mouth as Bucky nibbled and licked at his lips.

"Tony," Bucky growled. "Tony, fuck, I don’t give a shit what you’ve got in your pants. It’s _you_  I’m falling for, you know. Your brain, your heart, your smartass comments on the comms.” He pulled back enough to let Tony see his grin. “Your terrible taste in movies.”

Tony smiled back, still shaky but slowly warming. “Excuse you, I have  _flawless_  taste.”

Bucky just grinned wider. “None of that has anything to do with what’s in your drawers.”

Tony searched Bucky’s face for any hint of insincerity. He didn’t find any. He curled into Bucky, resting his face against the curve of Bucky’s neck. “Yeah?”

"Yeah." Bucky dropped a kiss on the top of Tony’s head.

Tony waited a few seconds. If he was dreaming, this was probably when he’d wake up.

He didn’t wake up.

Maybe… Maybe he actually got to keep this. Maybe, just maybe, if he screwed this up it would be for some reason north of his belt. Heart pounding, Tony took a deep breath and then tried for a teasing tone, and didn’t entirely miss the mark. “So. Falling for me, huh?”

Bucky nuzzled into Tony’s neck. “Lemme take you bed,” he said, his voice low and rumbling in a way that sent warm vibrations straight down Tony’s body, “and show you.”


	4. 16-Feb-2015: Guardian Angel AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Rating:** T
> 
>  **Prompt:** Imagine the slightly grumpy Winter Soldier Bucky as Tony's guardian angel. ♥ -Anonymous
> 
>  **Warnings:** None

"Steve, no."

"C’mon, Buck. Please?"

"I thought the Starks were  _your_  guardianship. Why all of a sudden do you want to be shoving them off on me?”

Steve’s face almost crumpled in guilt, and his wings rustled despite the lack of breeze. “I’ve gone wrong somewhere,” he admitted. “Howard used to be filled with the joy of creation, but now he’s nothing but bitter and angry. I think I know what I have to do to fix it, but it means stepping away while I arrange things. I just need you to keep an eye on them for me.”

Bucky sighed and stretched his wings, feeling the slight ache in the left one. He hadn’t had a family to protect since the accident, but the new wing was fully grown in, even if its feathers were still steely grey instead of the luxurious black of the right. Maybe it was time to give it another try. “Just until you get back?”

Steve smiled and hugged him gratefully. “Thanks, Buck. You’re the best.”

Bucky grunted. “Damn right I am.”

***

Bucky stood in front of the flaming wreck, dumbfounded. Steve hadn’t been watching for _two days_. Damn it. Had Bucky’s assistance just been rendered irrelevant?

…No. No, he could still feel the guardian’s pull.

It was pulling  _hard_ , actually. With a last, guilty look at the bodies of those he hadn’t been fast enough to protect, Bucky spread his wings.

He found the boy on his knees in the middle of a his dorm room, a half-packed suitcase abandoned on the bed. He was in shock, shivering with reaction, desperately in need of some sort of catharsis and unable to find it.

Bucky wrapped the boy in his wings, Willing comfort and clean mourning, but Bucky’s Will slid off the boy’s aura like water from a duck’s back.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" he demanded.

Humans who could resist a guardian’s Will were incredibly rare, destined for greatness but hard to influence and impossible to control.

No wonder Steve had run for the hills, Bucky thought uncharitably. Steve charged at every problem head-on, and hated having to use softer, sneakier influences. He’d probably been planning to con Bucky into taking over as guardian since he’d realized the boy was resistant.

That probably wasn’t fair to Steve, Bucky admitted. But Steve wasn’t the one sitting here trying to comfort a charge who couldn’t sense him at all.

Well. Bucky wasn’t Steve. Bucky was good at influencing.

There had to be someone here who liked the boy and could be nudged to look in on him, maybe even influenced toward a certain protectiveness. Bucky patted the boy’s head, not that he’d feel it. “Hang in there. Help is on the way.”

***

The guardian connection pulled Bucky out of a sound sleep. “Damn it, what  _now_?”

It had been alcohol poisoning, last time. Bucky’d had to  _terrify_  Tony’s passed-out “date” to make her wake up screaming so someone close to sober would look in and get Tony to the hospital. He hadn’t enjoyed it, but she’d been too far gone to respond to more gentle suggestions, and there hadn’t been time for anything else.

Bucky was startled when the pull didn’t lead him to the school, but toward the family home that Tony had visited only twice since his parents’ deaths.

Tony wasn’t visiting now, either. Instead, Bucky found Stane, wandering the still-dark halls of the mansion. His expression was chillingly covetous and then — when his gaze happened to fall on a family portrait — murderous.

Bucky snarled. “You can’t have him,” he spat. He clapped his hands over Stane’s head and _pushed_. He couldn’t change Stane’s personality, couldn’t force the man to like or even respect Tony, but he could shuffle Stane’s priorities a little. Drag his greed to the forefront so that it overtook the loathing and spite and hate.

"That’s it," Bucky breathed as he worked his Will. "He’s worth more to you alive, isn’t he?"

Stane wasn’t hard to manipulate and it didn’t take very long, but Bucky wanted a shower by the time it was done.

He flew north instead, and spent the rest of the night perched in a university window, watching Tony frantically scribbling notes for some project while his friend, Rhodey, slept in Tony’s unused bed, textbook open on his chest where it had fallen.

***

"Steve!" Laughing, Bucky threw himself into his friend’s arms. "You’re back!"

Steve returned the embrace with a desperation that made Bucky worry. “This is just a visit,” Steve said. “Then I have one more thing I need to do.”

"A visit? You asshole, I’ve been watching your charge for twenty  _years_  now. And he’s afraid of love. He hardly lets anyone near him. It’s fucking depressing.”

Steve pulled a face. “Still? Damn. I’d hoped, once Howard was gone…”

Bucky shrugged. “It wasn’t just Howard, you know.”

"Yeah, I just… How’s Pepper working out?"

” _You_  sent Pepper?” Bucky laughed. No wonder the steel in her voice had reminded Bucky of Steve. “I don’t know whether to kiss you or kill you. She’s perfect.”

Steve laughed, and  _damn_  but it was good to hear that again. “Thought she might be.”

"In fact," Bucky said, "she’s probably the only—" Then he was on his knees, knocked breathless by the urgency of the pull. "Fuck," he breathed, "Steve—"

"Go," Steve said firmly. " _Go_.”

Bucky was gone, so dazed by the sparking, driving requirement of the connection that he didn’t even realize until he was most of the way there that his wings were carrying him toward the far side of the globe from where he usually went, toward rocks and sand and desert.

***

Tony collapsed into Rhodey’s arms and Bucky fell to his knees on the desert sand in relief. The ordeal was over. Bucky had been working non-stop for months, convincing the terrorists not to kill Tony in the first place, inspiring the doctor enough to save Tony’s life, constantly directing naturally suspicious attention from Tony’s brilliant plan, and keeping the searchers from giving up and calling off the search. If Bucky had been mortal, that last flight of Tony’s would have  _killed_  him with terror.

This, Bucky had realized, had been Tony’s crucible, the beginning of the greatness for which he had been born. And it was probably for the best that Tony was immune to Bucky’s Will, because if Bucky had been able to Will Tony to keep his head down and quiet and just do whatever it took to remain safe and alive, that’s what Bucky would have made him do.

Instead, Tony had ignited in righteous anger. He was incandescent,  _glorious_  in his strength. It had stolen Bucky’s breath away to see, and had prompted Bucky to push his own powers nearly to the breaking point.

Steve, Bucky thought dazedly, would be proud of them both.

***

Why? Why had Bucky ever thought that Tony finding his destiny would be a good thing?

Bucky had  _never_  had to work so hard and so often to keep a charge alive, and Bucky had been a guardian for  _millenia_. The guardian connection was pulling at him nearly constantly; it had been months since Bucky had been able to leave Tony’s side for more than a few hours. His wings ached from constant use.

Disturbingly, Bucky found he didn’t mind.

Tony seemed more content, more  _himself_ , these days. Full of determination and fire. Confident in his abilities. He still didn’t let many people close — but those trusted few, he loved fiercely and without hesitation. He seemed to finally know who he was.

He was nearly as beautiful as an avenging angel.

***

_PULL_. Bucky groaned — things had been quiet for almost a month. “What is it  _this_  time?” he grouched, but the pull was strong enough that he was already unfurling his wings.

He found himself touching down on a street crowded with people, Tony in his scarlet armor and another man in brilliant blue facing… an Asgardian? No, a frost giant. A frost giant with an Asgardian’s skill of magic, and one of the Stones at his command.

No wonder the guardian pull was so strong — but what the hell was Bucky supposed to do about it?

He found himself crowding Tony’s back, wrapping the armor protectively with his own wings, as Tony and the other man — Captain something — restrained the creature and led it onto a vehicle.

Then the Captain took off his helmet, and Bucky staggered in shock, for the first time in four years utterly diverted from Tony Stark.

The Captain was  _Steve._

Bucky grabbed his shoulders. “Steve, what the fuck did you do?!” he demanded.

Steve didn’t respond. Didn’t even seem to  _see_  him.

"Oh, fuck," Bucky breathed. "Oh, fuck oh fuck oh fuck Steve, did you become a fucking _mortal_? Why? Steve, you’re…” Bucky buried his face in his hands. “ _Why_?”

No. There was some other explanation. This man couldn’t actually be Steve. Maybe it was someone that Steve had… imbued, somehow, like Pepper. Bucky needed answers, and he needed them  _now_. He grabbed Steve’s — no,  _not_  Steve’s, the Captain’s — shoulders again, tight, and pressed his Will into the mortal’s soul with all his strength.  _Protect. Tony. Stark._

The Captain was not, blessedly, immune to Bucky’s Will. He could feel the Captain’s resolve firming, wrapping around the thought of Tony.

Bucky looked at Tony, hesitating, and then lightly kissed his lips. “I’ll be back. Don’t die.”

***

Steve had left him a note.

Of course he had, the asshole.

This had been the plan all along: Howard had already been lost, and the young Tony immune to an angel’s Will, and so Steve had decided to request mortality, would undergo whatever trials were required to get a special body (the Captain, whom Bucky had seen was far stronger and faster than an average human) and a backdated insertion point (so he would not be a helpless infant when Tony needed him) — and then he was counting on Bucky to Will him to protect Tony as a mortal, because of course the mortal Steve wouldn’t remember anything of the guardian Steve.

The note contained an apology, and a formal release of Bucky’s guardianship of Tony Stark once Bucky had implanted that Will in the mortal Steve.

Which, of course, Bucky had already done.

A tear rolled down Bucky’s face, and his wings fluttered despite the lack of breeze. “It’s not that easy, Steve,” he whispered to the note. The guardian’s connection was gone, but there was another pull now, stronger by far.

Bucky still had Steve’s note in his fist and Tony’s breath on his lips when he entered the Supplicant’s Hall.

The angel there didn’t even wait for Bucky’s question. “I was wondering when you’d turn up,” she said. “You’re going after him.”

It was a test, of course. Bucky met her eyes steadily, even though she was far more powerful than a mere guardian. “I’m going after them both,” he said.

The angel smiled, and Bucky’s vision went white.

_Hang in there_ , Bucky thought desperately,  _Help is on the way_.


	5. 21-Feb-2015: Gifts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Rating:** T
> 
>  **Prompt:** Tony gives the best birthday surprises/gifts (Leslie Knope good), but is weird about too much fuss being made over his own. He's impossible to surprise, and trying to buy him something sucks. Wanting to turn the tables, Bucky has Tony meet him somewhere, and engages in role-play along the lines of "we're not celebrating your birthday—I'm just a stranger trying to pick you up." Bonus points: he's wearing lacy black lingerie underneath the suit and tie. ♥♥♥ -dezinformatsia
> 
>  **Warnings:** None

[AN: I changed Bucky’s outfit from the prompt request, but it’s okay; I cleared it with Dezi! Also, I had to google “Leslie Knope gifts” because I haven’t actually watched the show so I hope my example here is more or less on-target. But again — probably not actually the real point. :D ]

***

Bucky and Tony started seriously flirting around Thanksgiving and actually officially got together at New Year’s.  _Yes_  the midnight kiss, and  _yes_  it was cheesy as hell, and  _yes_  the other Avengers gave them no end of shit about it, but they had a matching set of dopey grins on their faces all through January, so they didn’t really care what everyone else thought.

They spent the better part of Valentine’s Day fighting off some aliens covered in an extremely unsexy slime. By the time they debriefed and got back to the Tower and showered off all the slime, they were so exhausted (not to mentioned turned off by the slime — seriously, that was terrible stuff) that they gave their dinner reservations to Clint (who had totally forgotten and was otherwise in  _big_  trouble) and stayed home. They cuddled up on the couch and ate an entire box of liqueur-filled chocolates while they watched old episodes of  _How It’s Made_.

When March rolled around, and with it, Bucky’s birthday, he wasn’t expecting much — he’d have been happy with cake and a birthday blowie, to be honest. Bruce made the cake, which was for the best, because he’d seen Tony’s cooking. Then he followed Tony’s knowing smirk back to his room with a matching grin of his own, and nearly fell over in shock when the door opened to reveal that the bed was covered with a quilt commemorating the Howling Commandos. There was Dugan’s dumb bowler, and Falsworth’s stupid beret, and Dernier’s horrible mustache. And Tony had clearly been talking to Steve, because none of the history books would have dared to remember the terrible tattoo Jones had picked up in Italy or the time Morita had spent a week wooing a French lady only to discover that she was a male prostitute.

Bucky was the most feared assassin of the last half-century, one of the highest-rated marksmen in the world, an instrument of destruction and chaos, and he was absolutely  _not crying_. “How the fuck did you do this?” he demanded in a voice that certainly was not shaky.

Tony shrugged. “Quilting is easy, it’s just putting the pieces together to make a rectangle and — hello, engineer? I hope you don’t mind that it’s not hand-sewn, but I made DUM-E and Butterfingers do it, so it’s probably still got some irregularities and  _mfff_!” The rest of whatever he’d been planning to say somehow got lost in the midst of the kissing and the getting naked and everything else.

It wasn’t until later, gratitude expressed and sweat cooling, that Bucky stared up at the ceiling and listened to Tony’s breath going slow and even in his ear, fingertip tracing idly over some bit of stitching on the quilt covering them, that he realized he was going to have to seriously step up his game for Tony’s birthday.

***

At first he wasn’t too worried. He lived with some of the smartest, most observant people on the planet, and Tony’s birthday wasn’t until May. No problem.

He made the mistake of asking Steve for help while they were waiting for Tony to arrive at a meeting. “How about a  _functioning watch_ ,” Steve growled. “Or tickets to an etiquette seminar.”

"A gaming console that doesn’t suck?" Clint said, his whole body twisting as if that would help his character jump just a few pixels further. It didn’t. Clint’s character fell into the pit of lava, and Bucky went in search of advice from someone else.

Bruce admitted to being at a loss from the beginning. “Sorry. I’m not very good at these things. And it’s not like you can buy Tony anything that he can’t get for himself. Impulse control is not exactly his strong suit.” That was true, but also the exact opposite of helpful.

"You might compose a ballad in his honor!" Thor enthused. "A tale of valor and daring for the ages!" That sounded pretty awesome, actually, but Bucky’s poetry skills were pretty much limited to dirty limericks.

Natasha listened to Bucky’s dilemma without a single change of expression and thought about it for less than ten seconds before she responded, “Kinky sex. I’ll send you some how-to links. And some stretching exercises.” That wasn’t quite what Bucky had in mind, but he bookmarked the links anyway.

"Maybe he’d like a two-story-tall rabbit," Pepper said, her eyes flashing in a way that made Bucky feel an urgent need to back away slowly.

Clearly, the Avengers were going to be no help at all.

He tried asking Tony directly, but Tony just waved it off. “No, no, don’t go to a fuss. The last time I threw a birthday party for myself I was dying; who wants to remember that?” He nuzzled into Bucky’s neck. “Everything I could ask for is right here.”

Which was sweet. But not very helpful.

***

Bucky got his first glimmer of an idea when they were at the Maria Stark Foundation’s Spring Gala. All the Avengers were on hand — it was a PR move for the team, and a big boost for the Foundation’s charities. It was a black tie affair, of course, and Tony had been driving a whole team of tailors and designers to distraction for weeks to get them outfitted in time, but as usual, Tony’s people had been up to the challenge. Natasha was rarely anything but elegant, and Steve would have looked perfect no matter what he wore, of course, but it turned out that Bruce, forcibly combed and shaved and stuffed into a bespoke suit, looked shockingly debonair. Clint, who’d sworn his assigned tailor to secrecy, turned up in a sleek dress of dark purple satin trimmed with black pearls. The low-dipped back and thigh-high slit were less surprising to Bucky than how gracefully he moved in the four-inch heels.

Tony wore his tuxedo like a second skin, as he always did, and Bucky shadowed him as he moved through the room, gladhanding and namedropping, making deals and testing connections. When the first big circuit was complete, Tony dropped onto a vacant stool at the bar for a short break. “What I wouldn’t give,” Tony sighed, “to just be some nameless schmuck for the night.”

"Having been a nameless schmuck," Bucky said, "I can tell you that it’s not nearly as fun as you might think."

Tony smiled and leaned briefly against Bucky’s side. “Maybe, but at least people would take me at face value and I’d know who actually cared. Present company excepted, of course.”

Bucky hummed soothingly and kissed Tony’s temple, but that, now… That was something to think about.

***

"Edward" checked the address against the slip of paper, then tucked it into the pocket of his jeans and pushed through the door into the slightly seedy bar. He’d been in worse, he thought, looking around from under the bill of his frayed baseball cap.

It was early enough that the crowd was small and casual, mostly people relaxing with a drink or two after work. No one seemed to notice him. He slid onto a stool at the bar.

The bartenter glanced his way and then went back to flirting with the girl at the far end of the bar, and Edward relaxed, just a fraction. Being dismissed as unimportant was  _glorious_.

Eventually, the girl took her drink and wandered off toward the tables, and the bartender made his way to Edward’s side of the bar. “What’re you having?”

"House draft," Edward said.

The bartender slapped down a napkin and drew the beer in one efficient motion. “That’s six,” he said.

"Sorry?" Edward blinked at him in confusion.

"Six bucks," the bartender repeated.

"Oh, right." Edward shifted on the stool and fished the wallet from his back pocket, hoping there would be cash in it. He’d found it, along with all the clothes and the paper with its instructions, laid out on the bed when he’d gotten out of the shower earlier.

There was, thankfully, money in the wallet. He handed the bartender a twenty, and received his change back with a sense of bemusement. He stuffed a dollar in the tip jar and put the rest back in his wallet. He’d just taken his first sip of the beer when a body leaned against the rail next to him, just a hint too close.

"Hey there, hot stuff."

Edward snorted and didn’t look up. “Is that the best opener you’ve got?”

"Well, I was gonna offer to buy you a drink, but you seem to already have one."

Edward took another sip of his beer. “It’ll be gone soon enough. You got a name?”

"Call me James."

Edward looked up, finally, and had to fight to keep his expression casual. “James” was a wet dream, poured into black skinny jeans and an old heavy metal t-shirt tight across his chest under a black leather jacket, and — dear god help him — heavy eyeliner, the corners expertly crafted into abstract, curling designs. “Holy fuck,” Edward whispered.

James smiled thinly, preening. “You ain’t seen nothin’ yet,” he promised.

Edward leaned back on his stool to give James an obvious and leisurely once-over.

James nudged his t-shirt up a little to hook his thumb in a belt loop and adjust his jeans, contriving to show off his lower abs and a glimpse of his hip bone.

Edward half-choked. Had that been—? He glanced up at James’ face and saw the twinkle of mischief behind those black-ringed eyes. He looked back down. James deliberately shifted his jeans again, giving Edward a closer look at the thin strip of black lace peeking out from underneath.

"So," James drawled, "you wanna blow this place, or what?"

Edward dragged his gaze back up James’ body. “Oh, I wanna blow something, all right.”

James grinned. “I know a place. We can take my bike.”

Edward nearly choked again. “He let you take the  _bike_?” he whispered. James glared and kicked him, gently, in the ankle. “I mean, I love bikes. Let’s get out of here.”

James rolled his eyes at the awkward recovery, but draped his arm over Edward’s shoulders with casual possessiveness as they moved toward the door.

***

Tony flopped down bonelessly, panting for breath, not even caring that his face was buried in mediocre hotel pillows. “Best. Birthday. Ever.”

Bucky trailed metal fingers up Tony’s spine, grinning at the way Tony shivered. Natasha’s links had come in handy, after all. “Yeah?”

"Oh yeah. ‘James’ is hot. We are so doing this again."

Bucky laughed. “I’ll have to get Clint to teach me how to do the eyeliner myself, then.”

"Nn," Tony agreed. "Also, I’m taking you shopping for more lingerie."

Bucky stretched and then flopped back on the bed. “Damn right you are. That was my nicest pair, and you ruined ‘em.”

"Best. Boyfriend. Ever."


	6. 22-Feb-2015: Panic Attacks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Rating:** T
> 
>  **Prompt:**  
>  \- imagine tony having his first panic attack infront of bucky and bucky realises that no one should be ashamed of panic attacks including himself -Anonymous  
> \- Tony sucks at self-care and Bucky sucks at self-care, but they are both very good at taking care of each other and MAKING the other one take care of themselves -Anonymous
> 
>  **Warnings:** None

The rattle of machine gun fire echoed in Bucky’s ears long after the would-be terrorists had been captured and turned over to the authorities. He gritted his teeth and tried to ignore it, but as they approached the exits of SHIELD’s New York headquarters, they saw a wild mob outside the door. Bucky flinched back, automatically drawing his sidearm before he realized it was only a bunch of reporters hoping for a picture or two and a quote or a soundbite for the evening news.

_Fuck._

"Not it," Tony muttered to Steve.

"Aw, come on," Steve whined.

"Nope," Tony said gleefully. "Terrorists are clearly your purview. Suck it up, Spangles, and go sell some more war bonds." He spun in a fast circle on his heel, dark eyes sweeping over them all quickly, and then leaned closer to Steve to murmur something that Bucky couldn’t quite make out.

Steve’s lips pressed together and then he nodded shortly, his jaw briefly squaring with determination before he plastered on his horrible USO grin and headed for the doors.

The rest followed, but Tony caught Bucky’s arm and pulled him back down the hall toward the briefing rooms they’d just vacated. “Nope, you’re with me, Barnes.”

Fuck,  _fuck_ , had Tony seen? Bucky had only been cleared for action for a couple of weeks; he didn’t need to get called up on the carpet so soon. And by  _Tony_ , for godsake. Everyone talked about Steve’s “disappointed Cap face” but Bucky had grown up with Steve and was largely immune to it. Tony, on the other hand, could snap from  _devastatingly_  handsome and flirty to  _terrifyingly_  furious in the space of a blink. Bucky had seen it happen, and he absolutely did not want to be on the wrong end of an angry Tony’s glare.

Perversely, when he needed it to stop most, the sound of gunfire in his ears just sounded louder. He gritted his teeth and followed Tony, who led him to the meeting rooms… and then past?

Bucky slowed for a few steps, then jogged to catch up. “Where we goin’?” he asked, trying his best not to sound breathless from his racing heart, or to raise his voice over the cover of fire Bucky knew only he could hear.

Tony opened a door and gestured Bucky through. On the other side was a short flight of stairs and what looked like a tunnel. “Secret exit on the far end of this,” Tony said.

Bucky almost tripped over his feet. “I didn’t— I can— I mean, what?”

Tony moved fast for a guy wearing twice his own body weight in armor. “Best Chinese in this part of the city is only half a block from the exit,” he said. “You can help me carry, and we’ll have it home and set up by the time they’ve managed to sort out the reporters.”

He wasn’t in trouble after all. Tony hadn’t seen him nearly fall apart and start shooting at reporters. He just wanted help carrying the food. Relief coursed through him with nearly enough force to wash away the panic. Bucky kept pace in silence and let Tony’s neverending chatter drown out the echo of gunfire.

***

"Why the f-f-fuck is it so c-cold in here?" Bucky demanded. "Am I being p-p-pranked, JARVIS?" Shivering, he fumbled the closet door open and reached for the spare blanket on the top shelf.

"No, sir. My sensors show the ambient temperature in your quarters as—"

"I don’t c-care what the s-s-sensors say; it’s f-fucking  _freezing_  in here,” Bucky growled. “Turn up the g-g-goddamn heat already!” He wrapped the blanket around his shoulders with shaking hands and paced, trying to get his blood moving, trying to banish the frozen black of his dreams.

A knock at the door arrested him mid-step. He looked at the clock: it was nearly 3am. Who the fuck was knocking on his door at 3am?

"Hey, come on, Tastyfreeze, open up!" That was Tony’s voice.

Bucky yanked open the door. Tony was wearing sweatpants and a tank top, his feet bare, his hair mussed and rumpled. “JARV says there’s a sensor array that’s out of whack in here somewhere and it’s screwing up your temperature controls.”

"S-s-sorry. I d-d-didn’t mean t-to w-w-wake anyone up." How mortifying.

"No trouble. I wasn’t asleep yet," Tony said with a dismissive wave, edging past Bucky into the suite. "Are your teeth actually chattering?" He made for the bar with its small kitchenette. "Let’s take the edge off that before I get to work. Do you like hot chocolate? Why am I even asking? Everyone loves hot chocolate." He ducked behind the bar and rummaged in the cabinets.

"Th-there’s no ch-chocolate," Bucky said. He pulled the blanket tighter around his shoulders, but was drawn toward the bar step by hesitant step.

"Bah, all the bars are fully stocked, whether you use them or— Ah-ha!" Tony sat up, brandishing a box. "It’s crappy instant mix, but it’ll do in a pinch, right? Right." He busied himself with mugs and the mini-fridge and the microwave. "Why’s it so dark in here?"

“‘C-cause I w-was asleep?”

"Well, you’re not now. Turn up the lights, J!"

Bucky stood by the bar and watched as Tony dumped powder into mugs and poured in heated milk, not quite allowing himself to notice that despite his bare arms and feet, Tony didn’t seem at all bothered by the temperature.

He took the mug Tony handed him and lifted it to his nose. It smelled like chocolate. Tony grinned and held up a bottle of Bailey’s. “Want a little snort in it for kick?”

Bucky shook his head, wordless, and sipped. It wasn’t the best cocoa he’d ever had, but it still managed to taste more or less like chocolate and, more importantly, to feel warm as it slid down his throat.

Tony ignored the mug he’d made for himself and turned around to open a panel on the wall behind him, pulling a screwdriver out of his pocket. Bucky wondered idly if Tony often went to bed with tools in his pockets, and sipped from the mug again.

Tony reached into the panel with the screwdriver, muttering nonsense under his breath as he poked and tinkered. By the time he replaced the panel cover, Bucky was down to the last couple of swallows. Tony looked at Bucky, then put his hand up to feel the air coming out of the vent. “That should do the trick,” he said. He flipped the screwdriver into the air, caught it, and stuck it back into his pocket. “By the time you finish that second mug, the air temp should be back up to normal.”

Bucky’s shivering had stopped, he realized. “I thought that one was for you?” he asked.

"Well, I thought that repair would take longer than it did," Tony answered with a shrug. "You go ahead and drink it — you super-soldiers and your metabolisms, you probably need the extra calories anyway. I’m going to go back to bed."

"Oh. Yeah, okay. Thanks, Tony."

Tony smiled and gave Bucky a flippant little salute before letting himself back out. Bucky curled his hand around the untouched mug of cocoa, and found himself feeling oddly disappointed.

***

"You are shitting me." Tony’s voice sounded… odd.

"Tony, I’m sorry." Steve did actually sound very, very sorry, despite the fact that he was punching invader faces as he said it. "But you’re the only one with the ability to both get in there and figure out how to shut the thing down."

Tony was usually the first one to jump into danger — it drove Steve crazy, though Bucky thought that was at least half because that meant  _Steve_  couldn’t be first — but he was sure dragging his feet this time. Bucky could hear his breathing, harsh and fast over the comms.

"I wouldn’t ask if there was any other way," Steve said, and now he sounded guilty, too. "You’ve got an environmental enclosure, and the know-how for—"

"All right, all right." And that was the sound of Tony swallowing whatever his reservations were and taking off. "If that portal closes while I’m on the other side—"

"I’ve got Strange on speed-dial," Natasha promised, her voice surprisingly sympathetic considering that she was doing a flip off of an overturned city bus onto an invader’s head while shooting two more of them.

"That asshole? He’s like a less good-looking version of m—" Tony’s commlink cut out as he passed through the portal.

Bucky shot two more invaders, then looked up at the hole in the sky and the barren desert on the other side. “At least it looks warm on the other side?” he offered.

There was a long, awkward pause, and then Clint said, “Soooo, who forgot to tell Bucky Bear about Stark’s tragic origin story?”

"Clint," Steve said severely, "let’s have a little—

"Portal’s shrinking!" Sam said.

Bucky looked up again, and Sam was right. It was already almost half the size it had been. Bucky shot three invaders in quick succession. “Any sign of Tony?” Steve demanded.

"I don’t— yes, there he is!" Sam shouted, and just as he spoke the words, Iron Man shot back through the rapidly-diminishing portal and dove into the fray.

Without seemingly-endless reinforcements, the cut-off invaders were easy to mop up. Bucky made his way down to the street and pulled up just in time to see Tony land heavily, a good thirty feet away from the others, and fall to his knees. He jerked off his helmet and threw it aside, then leaned over to vomit into the gutter.

Ignoring Steve’s call to wait, Bucky sprinted to Tony’s side. “Tony! Tony, what’s wrong?”

Tony was pale as paper, and when he glanced up at Bucky, his eyes were stretched wide, the pupils constricted to pinpricks. “Nothing,” he panted, his voice even shakier than it had been before. “Just dandy.”

"Tony."

"Fuck off," Tony said hoarsely. "Another fucking goddamn  _portal_  and another goddamn fucking  _desert_  and I think I am  _allowed_  to take a minute for a fucking goddamn  _panic attack_.”

Bucky backed away a few steps in surprise at Tony’s vehemence. He didn’t understand. He didn’t know what to do. Tony looked like, looked like  _him_ , actually, when he’d woken from one of his nightmares, drenched in sweat, gasping for air and shaking uncontrollably.

Natasha came up on Bucky’s left. “He spent three months as a prisoner in the desert,” she said, too softly for Tony to overhear, “and the last portal we encountered nearly killed him. His heart stopped for almost a minute.” She patted Bucky’s metal arm, and he wished he could feel her warmth instead of just the pressure of it. “None of us have easy lives,” she observed, her conversational tone at odds with the tears standing in her eyes as she watched Tony struggle to breathe. “We try to help each other along whenever we can, but sometimes it isn’t enough.”

They watched in silence until Tony’s breath finally began to even out, and then Natasha patted Bucky’s arm again and turned away.

Bucky hesitated, then walked back over to where Tony was still kneeling on the sidewalk and crouched to look at him. “Hey, Tony?”

"What?" Tony sounded shaky, but no longer desperate and wild.

"You didn’t fix a damn thing in my apartment, did you?"

Tony hesitated, then shook his head. “Stalling tactic,” he admitted.

"And you didn’t need any help carrying the food, either."

"Usually just have it delivered," Tony said.

Bucky nodded, then stood up and offered Tony his hand.

Tony squinted up at him, confused.

"Come on," Bucky said easily. "I’m gonna show you how to make real hot chocolate. That shit you put in my bar tastes like sandpaper."

Tony laughed weakly. “It’s for emergencies,” he protested, but he reached up and grabbed Bucky’s wrist, let Bucky pull him to his feet.

"No emergency is worth that," Bucky said easily. "Let’s go. If you behave, maybe I’ll let you pick the movie."

"Wait, we’re watching a movie now?" He said it easily, but his next step wobbled.

"Only if you behave," Bucky teased, putting an arm around the armor’s waist to steady him.

"What if I don’t want to behave?" Tony shot back, but Bucky didn’t miss the relieved sigh he let out when he leaned into Bucky’s side.

Bucky grinned. “Well, that’s when it gets fun.”


	7. 27-Feb-2015: First Introduction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Rating:** T
> 
>  **Prompt:** Imagine that first moment after Bucky realizes that, not only is this guy hot and smart as a wip and loaded to the moon and back—he's also viciously, /ferociously/ dangerous as fuck. (First introduction!Badass, please?) -hotrodngold
> 
>  **Warnings:** None

The distinctive whine of a repulsor engine shuddered down Bucky’s spine, urging him to duck for cover, to hide in the undergrowth and slip away, as he’d done a dozen times before. He ignored the impulse and stood straight, keeping his face impassive as he watched the small aircraft circle down to a perfect landing on the abandoned helipad.

The craft’s door slammed open and a large man threw himself out, already running at top speed. “Bucky! Wait!”

Steve pulled up several yards away, eyes wide with fear and hope, hands spread placatingly, as if Bucky was a skittish stray. Which, Bucky thought, might not be too far from the truth. He smiled at the thought, and Steve’s breath caught. “Bucky? Do you—”

"I remember you," Bucky said. He made himself looked into Steve’s face. It had healed from the damage Bucky had done to it, but Bucky could still see the bruises and swelling and blood anyway. "I remember everything."

"Oh, thank God," Steve gasped. "Bucky, you have no idea—"

"You two are going to have to postpone the reunion," the Black Widow said. Bucky jumped, because he hadn’t noticed her approaching.

Steve didn’t seem at all startled. “What is it?” he asked tersely, not taking his eyes off Bucky.

"Stark went after a Ten Rings cell and they got the jump on him. Some kind of EMP that dropped the armor, Clint says, from what footage he can dig up." Her hand was held to her ear, to a comm device there. "We’re the closest to his last known coordinates."

Steve swallowed and shifted in a way Bucky suddenly recognized: bracing for bad news. “Not dead?”

"No. If they’d killed him, they’d be waving it like a flag. They want him for something."

Steve let out his breath in relief, and nodded. “Okay. Tell Clint we’re on our way in five.” He lifted an eyebrow at Bucky. “You coming?”

Bucky chewed on it. “I guess.” He holstered his gun and fell in at Steve’s shoulder as they headed back toward the aircraft. It felt… right.

Steve waved Bucky toward a seat. The Black Widow was diving into the pilot’s chair, headphones already on and flipping switches on the board before she even got her harness fastened. “Buckle up,” Steve advised, suiting his actions to his words. “Nat’s a hell of a pilot but she’s not gentle even at the best of times, and with one of ours in danger…”

Bucky pulled the seat’s buckle around and fastened it. “Who is this guy?”

"Tony Stark," Steve said At Bucky’s blank look, he added, "Howard’s son." Steve opened a hatch and pulled out a tablet, swiping and poking at it with practiced ease. "You haven’t been doing your homework?"

"Just a different focus from you, is all," Bucky said. "I know a hell of a lot about Hydra boltholes these days." He took the tablet when Steve handed it to him and looked down at it to see what looked like a briefing packet on Iron Man.

"Oh, the red robot guy!" Bucky said, zeroing in on the picture. "You shoulda said. This is Howard’s kid? He as good as Howard was?"

"Probably better," Steve said. "And not nearly as secretive. Howard… wasn’t always on the up-and-up."

"Never thought he was," Bucky said mildly, flicking away the description of the armor’s capabilities. A picture popped up of the man, wearing a fancy suit and smiling for the cameras. "Not bad looking," Bucky mused.

Steve huffed a laugh. “I’d’ve thought he was just your type,” he said.

The teasing and joking felt right, too, and something loosened in Bucky’s gut, and he smiled a little as he flicked to the next picture. This one showed the man down to his undershirt and covered in smears of grease, those dark eyes intent on some sort of device in front of him. Bucky felt a thin thread of desire shiver up his spine and spared a moment to wonder at it: how many years, how many  _decades_  had it been since he’d wanted that?

***

Bucky had been focused exclusively on Hydra bases for the last year, but these compounds all had a sameness to them, no matter whose they were. The main bunker was all concrete and razor-wire. “Those guards look tense to you?” Steve asked.

"Now that you mention it, they do," Bucky agreed. "You think they know we’re here?"

"No," the Black Widow said, and she smiled. Bucky did not want to be on the wrong side of that smile. "I think they’ve discovered — yet again — what it means to have Tony Stark in your basement. Let’s go see if we can meet him in the middle."

Ten Rings soldiers died about the same as Hydra soldiers, Bucky found, though fewer of them had heard of the Winter Soldier, and so they were much more terrified of Steve and Natasha than of him. Bucky didn’t mind.

He nudged Steve and nodded toward a hallway ahead of them. “Prison block’s probably that way.”

"Think so?"

"These places are so unimaginative," Bucky mock-complained.

Steve grinned wolfishly. “Let’s go, then.”

Just as Steve punched out the startlingly young man sitting at the gate controls, they heard gunfire and shouting from behind the heavy metal doors. Bucky sucked on his teeth and shot a look at Steve. These Ten Rings guys seemed like exactly the kind of assholes who would shoot a prisoner rather than let him be captured. “You don’t think—”

"Get the damn doors open, Nat," Steve snapped. He was flexing his hands on the edge of his shield restlessly, just waiting for a target.

The Black Widow was already typing at the control center’s computer, fast but not frantic. She didn’t bother to respond, but she smirked at Steve as the doors started to swing open.

Steve wound up, but on the other side of the doors was a closed gate of iron bars. Bucky was reasonably certain that it was an airlock system, that the gate would not open while the heavy steel doors stood open. On the other side of that gate, a good twenty feet down the hallway, was Tony Stark, held hostage by a Ten Rings operative’s arm around his throat and a gun at his temple. “Stop there, Captain!” the operative shouted. “If you or your team so much as twitches, Stark dies!” Behind them, the hall was littered with bodies, at least four that Bucky could see. One section of wall was blackened in a pattern that suggested explosives.

Stark didn’t look especially frightened. There was blood trickling down the side of his face, and more blood in his teeth when he grinned at them. “Cap, Romanov,” he greeted. “New Guy. Good to see you.”

The Black Widow said, “Tony. It was nice of you to save a few for us.”

"So, hey, the timing is awkward for introductions, but I think my sabbatical is done," Steve said, tone casual despite the coiled-spring tension of his body.

Stark’s gaze flickered over Bucky again, eyes glittering. “So not so much New Guy as Old Guy, then.”

"Tony," Steve chided.

"Be quiet!" the Ten Rings operative snarled, pushing the muzzle of his gun harder into Stark’s temple.

Out of the corner of his eye, Bucky saw the Black Widow nod, just slightly. Stark’s grin grew wider, and in a flurry of motion he threw the operative over his shoulder, twisting his shoulders so that the gun fired into the cement floor. Stark rolled with the throw — not as smoothly as Bucky could have done it, but fucking impressively for a supposed civilian — and came up with the gun in his own hand and his knee at the operative’s throat. He aimed the gun at the operative’s face. It was as steady as any hand Bucky had seen. “I only need one of your eyes to open the door,” he said calmly.

Bucky had to remind himself to breathe. He really shouldn’t be finding Stark’s easy violence so attractive. “Why’d we even come?” he complained. “This guy’s got it sewed up without us.”

Stark flashed him a grin. “Needed a ride, didn’t I, Old Guy? Can’t expect me to walk back to New York from… wherever this is.”

” _Just_  your type,” Steve said under his breath, and dodged Bucky’s kick.


	8. 28-Feb-2015: Florist Tony AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Rating:** T
> 
>  **Prompt:** imagine bucky on vacation somewhere, and bucky ducks away from steve cuz he's being too protective/overbearing, and somehow bucky finds himself hiding in tony's garage/tech store/flower shop/cafe/whatever! -Anonymous
> 
>  **Warnings:** None

Tony bobbed his head and hummed along with Black Sabbath as he clipped the rose stems. Everyone else at the shop hated prom season, but Tony rather liked it. The work was repetitive, sure, but soothing. And high school kids mostly didn’t notice if one of the roses in a three-rose corsage was a slightly different tint than the others, or if maybe a boutonniere was a touch crooked; they were just thrilled to be getting flowers at all. Tony would take a whole prom season over a single bridezilla, and that was a fact.

Plus, prom was filled with little gems like this job. He double-checked the writeup sheet to make sure he hadn’t imagined it, then wheeled over to the ribbon rack to find the black satin that was usually reserved for funeral bouquets.

He was just back at the worktable and reaching for the white floral tape when the door to the alley burst open. Tony looked up in surprise — damn it, he really needed to remember to lock it when he’d come back in from his lunch break — and a man darted through and closed it quickly, then leaned against it like someone from a movie chase scene.

Tony reached for the volume knob on his speakers, but the stranger shook his head quickly, eyes wide. “Uh. Okay.” Tony looked around, but as far as he could see, it was just the two of them in the workroom. “That’s not the shop entrance, just so you know.”

"I know. I’m sorry, I just—" The man glanced at the door as if surprised it wasn’t opening again, then took a few tentative steps into the room.

He was tall and handsome, well-muscled without being obnoxious about it. He was wearing a jacket despite the warmth of the day, one hand stuffed in the pocket. His hair was cropped short and just a little wavy in a way that made Tony want to touch it, and his eyes were the prettiest gray-blue that Tony had ever seen.

"Are you okay?" Tony asked. "I mean, you came in here looking like someone was chasing you. Do I need to call the cops, or…?"

"Oh, no! No, I just, um, needed to get away from my friend for a minute."

Tony’s eyebrows climbed. “Well, sure, who wants to hang out with their friends? Totally boring, especially compared to crashing into the backs of random shops.”

The guy grimaced. “He means well, he just— Right before we headed out on this vacation, someone gave him a bunch of books about PTSD and stress, and now he thinks he knows my triggers better than I do, and the mother-henning was a little too much. And my selection wasn’t  _totally_  random. I liked your music.”

Tony laughed. “Well, okay, I can’t fault your taste. But seriously, if you’re going to hang out, sit down. I need to get on with this, or I’m going to have a couple dozen angry seventeen-year-olds on my hands in a few hours. My name’s Tony, by the way.”

"Bucky," the guy said. He came slowly over to the worktable and dropped onto an empty stool. "Go ahead, I’d hate to be the cause of you being torn apart by a pack of rabid teenagers." He eyed the stack of finished boxes in the fridge. "Prom?"

"Yep," Tony agreed, picking up a rosebud and the florist’s tape again. He glanced at Bucky a few times as he worked, but those pretty eyes stayed locked on Tony’s hands, seemingly fascinated by the motions. "So, not to mother-hen," Tony said after a moment, "but anything in here I should avoid? By way of triggers?"

Bucky looked up and grinned. “Nah, don’t think so. Very few flower shops where I was stationed.”

"Ah. That kind of PTSD."

Bucky grimaced. “Kinda. Probably not what you’re thinking.”

"No?" Tony kept his eyes on his work, making sure the black satin ribbon completely covered the tape. "I’ve got a buddy in the Air Force, he’s been all over the Middle East. Iraq, Afghanistan, Qatar."

Bucky shrugged and nodded. “Luck to ‘im. I was in Germany, myself. Never saw any action.”

"Oh, okay." Tony wanted to ask, but decided that it would be rude, even for him, to pry into the circumstances of someone he’d known for less than ten minutes. He boxed the simple corsage and started on the boutonniere. Which didn’t match — Tony checked the sheet three times, but Pepper had circled the changes and written "Yes Tony I know" underneath, so he guessed he was reading it right. He made a face — kids today! — and went to the cooler to find purple sweetheart roses. Well, maybe it was a just-friends couple who’d wanted the discount for ordering as a set.

"You ain’t gonna ask?" Bucky said when Tony came back to the table.

"None of my business," Tony said. "You came in here to get away from it, right?"

Tony knew he’d said the right thing when Bucky stared at him for a moment, then drew a shaky breath. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah.”

Tony smiled and just kept working, and when he’d finished the little cluster and stuck a pin in it, he held it up with a flourish. “There. Now we’re all set to go to prom.”

Bucky grinned, a little crookedly. “Are we, now?”

"Well, unless your friend would have reason to object. I don’t abet cheating, even if they are mother-henning."

"Nah, we’re just friends. But I’m probably not prom-date material." Bucky hesitated, then pulled his left hand out of his jacket pocket.

Tony realized it’d been in there the whole time simultaneously with registering that it was a prosthetic. He blinked, and cocked his head at it. It was very well-made, almost natural-looking except in its stillness. Then his eyes ticked back up to Bucky’s face with its shuttered, neutral expression.

"Very few dances require two hands," Tony pointed out. "You telling me you can’t dance, Buckaroo?"

Bucky’s eyes closed briefly in what looked like relief. “Oh, I can dance all right,” he said, flirting hard, testing.

"Bet you can," Tony agreed, and leaned close — almost close enough to kiss, teasing himself as much as he was teasing Bucky. He held it just long enough to see Bucky think about leaning in to close the distance between them, and pulled away. "Ten more orders to make," he said, suppressing his smile at the flush that climbed Bucky’s neck. "Tell you what: you go find your friend, who is probably worrying about you by now, and tell him to stuff those books in the trash. And if you make your way back here around seven… I’ll take you dancing."

Bucky hesitated a moment, his eyes wide with surprise, and then he smirked knowingly. “You know, I think you’ve got yourself a date.”


	9. 1-Mar-2015: Kitten Tony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Rating:** T
> 
>  **Prompt:**  
>  \- I have this little idea for Kitty!Tony. Imagine Tony and Bucky on a mission and they are up against a magic user and Tony gets hit with a spell that turns him into a small black kitten. Bucky sees it happen and rushes to Tony and has Jarvis open the armor and there is a tiny black kitten in the armor. He would immediately scoop the kitten up and claim him as his -Anonymous  
> \- imagine the Avengers fighting a wizard, and really the wizard is just a kid no older than 18, when the kid decides to just randomly fling a spell he just learned. poor Tony gets hit and when the others get to him it turns out he's been turned into a cute little kitten! Bucky has always adored cats and even though he wants his boyfriend turned back, he still coos over how cute Tony is. the spell lasts 24 hours so the wait into too long. -Anonymous
> 
>  **Warnings:** None

They’re going over the most recent fight footage when Tony’s phone starts playing CCR’s “I Put a Spell On You” and Tony is groaning in disgust even before he fishes it from his pocket.

"What do you want, Sparkles?" he demands as he thumbs it on. "I thought we’d agreed to each stick to our own spheres of influence."

Even in the tiny hologram image projected from Tony’s phone, Stephen Strange looks… harried. “Sometimes things stack up,” he says repressively. “Tell me, would you rather take the demon enclave that’s cropped up in Tibet, or the untrained 18-year-old who’s somehow got their hands on a grimoire in Oklahoma?”

"Oklahoma," Tony says quickly.

Strange smiles thinly. “Thought so. I’m emailing you the details now. I should be back from Tibet in a few days.”

Tony stuffs the phone back into his pocket and leans into Bucky’s side, dropping his head to Bucky’s shoulder with a groan. “God save me from repressed idiot farmboys,” he mutters.

"Hey, I resemble that," Clint snarks, but he’s already heading for the locker room.

***

It turns out that an untrained 18-year-old with a magical grimoire can do a fair amount of damage before she’s contained, especially since the grimoire seems to be semi-sentient and controlling the farmgirl as much as she’s controlling it.

The good news is that all she seems to be doing is turning people into animals, so Nat, Clint, Sam, and Bucky are detailed to corral all the critters somewhere safe until they can be restored while Thor and Steve and Tony go after the kid. (Bruce stays behind in the jet, making phone calls to local animal shelters and the three nearest zoos for assistance.)

They finally corner the girl near the high school, where she has been looking for her old teachers in order to wreak vengeance or… whatever. Tony lands in front of her, his hands held up cautiously. “Look, it’s done now. Put the book down and we’ll all go sit down, talk it out.”

"Shut up!" the girl yells. "Just fuck off! I can’t take it any more!"

"It wasn’t a suggestion," Tony says, more firmly. "Put the book down now, sweetheart."

The girl’s eyes blaze with an unnatural blue light. “I am not,” she snarls, “your _sweetheart_!”

Cap is closing in behind her, his shield-arm wound up for a swing, but then the world turns very bright and blue.

***

Bucky is trying to get the girl’s parents — currently a golden retriever and a  _giraffe_ , whatever the fuck that’s about — herded into the enclosure that Clint and Sam knocked together, when his comm clicks on. “Hey, Buck?” Steve says, “you’ve got the emergency release codes for Tony’s armor, right?”

***

Bucky leaps from the borrowed Jeep and dives for the prone armor. “JARVIS, evac release, voiceprint Juliett Bravo Two!”

"Voiceprint confirmed," JARVIS says, and the armor begins falling open while Bucky holds his breath, Steve and Thor hovering behind him while Natasha is finishing the job of restraining the would-be menace.

Section after section falls away to reveal an interior that is more and more distressingly  _empty_ , until finally the lower legs pop open and—

"Oh my god," Steve chokes.

"That… would not have been my first guess," Thor admits.

"He’s so  _cute_ ,” Bucky blurts.

The tiny floof of black stands up on its tiptoes and hisses at all three of them, golden eyes narrowed and back arching as its fur puffs out even further.

***

Steve knocks twice and opens the door to the boarding-house room that Bucky’s claimed for himself. “Come on, it’s feeding time at the zoo,” Steve says.

Bucky, lounging on the bed, gives Steve his best wide-eyed innocent look and curls a hand protectively over the kitten sleeping on his chest. “You can’t ask me to abandon our teammate in his time of need!”

Steve is not at all fooled. “Couple dozen others in need out here, too, you know. C’mon, hop to. Someone’s gotta take care of all these animals until Strange can wrap up his thing and come put everyone back.”

Tony uncurls and stretches mightily, and Bucky ignores Steve to watch, grinning like an idiot. Not that he doesn’t want his boyfriend restored, of course, but he’s always loved cats, and kitten-Tony is  _adorable_. Bucky doesn’t  _want_  to go muck out the animal enclosure and see to feeding time. He wants to snuggle and pet Tony’s unbelievably soft fur.

But Tony stands and stretches again, then gently bites Bucky’s finger before scampering up Bucky’s sleeve to sit on his shoulder.

Steve, still leaning in the doorway, grins. “He’s more responsible than you are,” Steve teased. “Bring him along; maybe he can get you to actually do some work for once.”

"Shut up, jerk," Bucky groans. He sits up, moving carefully so Tony can adjust his balance and remain standing on Bucky’s shoulder. "I’m coming. I’m coming. Just tell me we’re sticking Clint with the monkeys."

Tony drapes himself over Bucky’s shoulder and purrs loudly.

***

"Oh Christ, my mouth tastes  _terrible_ ,” Tony complains. “Tell me you did not let me eat any actual mice.”

"Not that I noticed," Bucky says, "but I don’t know what you did while I was asleep. You don’t remember anything?"

Tony waves his hand indistinctly. “Not much.” He eyes Stephen Strange suspiciously. “I suppose I should thank you,” he says, going out of his way to be ungracious about it.

Strange smiles. “My pleasure,” he says cheerfully, even though his robes are covered in some sort of greenish ichor and appear to be steaming slightly. “I’ll just go see to the rest of the transformed folk, shall I?”

"God, I hate magic," Tony grumbles when Strange is gone.

"I know, babe," Bucky says, stroking Tony’s hair.

Tony purrs at the touch and leans into Bucky’s side. “Being a cat wasn’t all bad,” he admits. “How about a quick nap before we go find the others?”


	10. 6-Mar-2015: Fantasy AU feat. Dragon!Tony and Werewolf!Bucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Rating:** T
> 
> **Prompt:**  
>  \- Since the fantasy line has already been broken form this ask blog; can you pull off a shape shifting Bucky or Tony dragon? -awesometurtletails  
> \- Imagine a fantasy AU. Bucky's recently out of the control of a nasty wizard cabal and when he needs work done on the magical construct that is his arm his friend takes him to the best wizard he (or she, the friend could be Natasha) knows. Can he really be falling for Tony this quickly or is it just another spell? -Anonymous
> 
> **Warnings:** None

Bucky’s shoulder felt like fire, even with the false arm tied into a sling to keep it from jostling. He gritted his teeth against the pain, butSteve looked at him as if to say there was no point in trying to hide it. “Just over the next hill,” Steve promised. Bucky nodded and ground his teeth harder.

Over the hill, though, there was nothing at all to be seen. Bucky closed his eyes in despair. “Steve,” he tried for at least the dozenth time. “You need to cut me loose and go back to the others. The kingdom needs you.”

"No," Steve said firmly. "I’m not leaving you again. Not with  _their_  magic still on you.”

"Steve, the Cabal is  _counting_  on me distracting you,” Bucky said, desperate now.

"The Cabal?" said a new voice, sharp and intent.

Bucky and Steve whirled around to face— a man. Only a man, Bucky thought, letting his breath out, though rare was the man who could sneak up on either of them. And hardly _only_ , either; he was devastatingly handsome despite his plain workman’s clothes — lithe and wiry, his eyes bright with intelligence.

"Tony," Steve said, and sounded relieved.

"This is your wizard?" Bucky said in disbelief. He looked at the man again, but even on close inspection saw no sigils of power, no amulets, no artifacts. Not even a  _wand_.

The man — Tony, Bucky supposed — didn’t seem to be offended by Bucky’s skepticism. He just grinned. “That’s me,” he agreed. “Who’re you?” Tony looked at Steve. “Who is this?”

"This is Bucky," Steve said with a sort of fond exasperation that Bucky knew well. "He’s only just escaped from the Cabal, and he needs—"

"His arm fixed, for starters," Tony said, frowning at Bucky’s shoulder. He took hold of Bucky’s real arm and started pulling. "Let’s go inside." Tony was a lot stronger than he looked, and Bucky cast a despairing look back at Steve as Tony led them toward what looked like a dank cave on the underside of the hill.

Steve just grinned. “I’ll be back soon to check on you,” he promised.

***

"Are you sure he’s a wizard?" Bucky asked Steve three days later when he’d finally come back.

"Of course I’m sure," Steve said, looking startled. "The king himself has said that Tony is one of the most skilled wizards ever to have lived. Why?"

"He doesn’t act like any wizard I’ve ever met," Bucky said. "And he hasn’t  _done_  anything. All we do is sit around and talk and eat. He doesn’t act like a wizard, or talk like one, or live like one, or look like one.” At least the dank cave had turned out to be camouflage, merely the echoing entrance to a large but surprisingly cozy house under the hill.

"No? What, pray tell, do wizards look like?"

Bucky could hear the teasing tone in Steve’s voice, but couldn’t seem to stop himself from answering. “Old and ugly, mostly,” he grumbled.

Steve grinned. “Are you telling me you’re doubting Tony’s wizard-ness because you think he’s hot?”

"I didn’t say that!"

"You didn’t have to. I know that look in your eyes."

"He told me to call him  _Tony_!”

"Because that’s… his name?" Steve said, confused.

Bucky glared at him. “All of the wizards I’ve ever met wanted to be called something… fancy. ‘Milord’ or ‘your worship’ or ‘your excellency’ or something like that.” He left “Master” off the list, but knew Steve was hearing it anyway.

"I’m pretty sure most of the wizards you’ve met have been Cabal assholes," Steve pointed out.

"Even their enemies were pretty high in the clouds," Bucky argued.

"I promise," Steve said earnestly, "Tony’s a good guy."

Bucky bit his lip. Steve did know him better than anyone, but— “The Cabal charmed me to obey,” he reminded Steve. “What if this is like that?”

Steve sobered abruptly. “Do you feel compelled to obey Tony?”

"No, but…" Bucky worried at his lip with his teeth, thinking. "What if this is… more subtle? A charm to make me like him so I’ll  _want_  to do what he says? He’s so cocky and annoying; why would I be attracted to that without a spell?”

Steve managed to look both pained and amused. “Buck, from what I remember of before the Cabal grabbed you? Tony’s brand of cocky and annoying was  _exactly_  your type.”

***

Bucky had been with Tony for nearly a week now, and he still hadn’t seen Tony do anything that looked like magic, or act in any way that he’d ever seen a wizard act. His impatience finally won out over his reticence.

"I thought you were going to fix my arm!" he demanded as they were eating breakfast. "Are you some kind of charlatan, or what?"

Tony’s eyebrows rose at that, but he didn’t take offense. “I’ve been waiting for you to ask,” he said.

"You’ve been— You idiot, this is a  _weapon_ ,” Bucky said, all but snarling. “If you wait too long, it is going to kill us both!”

Tony just smiled. “No it isn’t,” he asserted.

"How can you say that?"

"Tell me," Tony said, leaning back in his chair and twirling a table knife between dextrous fingers, "has the spell continued to deteriorate since your arrival?"

"What? Of course it has; the Cabal had set it to—" Bucky stopped in sudden shock, his eyes widening as he grabbed at the false arm in the realization that it had  _not_ , in fact, gotten worse. It still hurt, but no more now than it had the day he and Steve had strode over the hill. “What did you do?” he whispered.

Tony looked smug. “Wizard stuff.”

"But you never even touched it!" He frowned. He had been locking his bedroom door at night, but it was, after all, Tony’s house. "…Have you?"

"Of course not! As I said, I’ve been waiting for you to ask. There are rules about this sort of thing. It’s merely in a sort of stasis at the moment. Spells in my house that don’t belong to me generally find themselves… overwhelmed."

"You’re really a wizard," Bucky said.

Tony sighed and took a bite of egg. “Of course I am,” he said. “Steve told you I was. I don’t blame you for doubting me, but why would you doubt Steve?”

"I… I don’t…" Bucky bit his lip and curled his hand around the false wrist with its quietly throbbing runes, and steeled himself. "Will you help me?" he breathed.

Tony grinned wide. “Thought you’d never ask.”

***

The workshop to which Tony brought him looked like a smithy, not a wizard’s workroom, but Bucky felt the power in it the instant he crossed the threshold. It dropped with almost crushing weight on his shoulders, and his false arm flared with screaming pain.

"Now that’s interesting," Tony murmured. He guided Bucky to a low stool, and laid his hands on the false arm’s shoulder. "Very interesting indeed. You shouldn’t be able to feel the magic in here, but you do, don’t you?"

"Yes," Bucky gritted from between his teeth. "It’s the arm."

"Oh, of course," Tony said. Bucky felt a few more light touches, and the pain… receded. "How’s that?"

Bucky all but sagged. “Better. Thanks.”

Tony hummed and picked up the false arm, examining it closely. He very carefully did not touch the runes that circled Bucky’s wrist. “Do you know what these do?”

"Not… precisely," Bucky admitted. "The Cabal… They had spells to make me obey them, but sometimes they’d activate those runes and… I can’t remember anything that happened afterward, not for hours. When I woke up, it was usually…" He swallowed hard. "Bad."

Tony’s eyes lit up with what could only be excitement. “Well, let’s find out!”

"No, wait, you don’t unde—"

_Black._

[ ](http://imaginetonyandbucky.tumblr.com/post/118547424346/)

***

Bucky didn’t want to open his eyes. He knew what he’d see.

Enmeshed in the Cabal’s charms, the blood and destruction had never bothered him before, but he found that the thought of it bothered him very much now.

Especially since it would be Tony’s blood splashed around the room.

Tony, who had been kind to him. Who had cared for him, who had given him a home, had talked to him as if he mattered, who told ridiculous jokes and— Bucky made himself breathe shallowly through his mouth so he wouldn’t smell the blood.

Had this been the Cabal’s plan all along? To let Bucky think he had escaped, be forced to seek out a wizard to help him, and then murder them when they unwittingly triggered the arm? The Cabal was certainly cunning enough to conceive of such a plan. And it had never occurred to him. He’d brought this destruction to his friends, all of his own accord.

Bucky whimpered softly and wrapped his arm over his face.

"Oh, good, you’re awake."

Bucky sat up, eyes widening in shock.

Tony was standing at the forge, working the bellows as he watched something in the flames. His shirt was off and he looked entirely unharmed, aside from a blue gem embedded in the center of his chest. Was it glowing, or was that an artefact of the forge-fire?

Bucky stood slowly, looking around the room. There was some sign of struggle — the stool was knocked over, one of the heavy iron workbenches upended and its contents spilled across the floor. There were several scars in the stone floor, parallel gouges that looked like the claw-marks of some massive beast.

He looked at Tony again. He was smudged with dirt and ash, but Bucky couldn’t see so much as a bruise. Even that odd gem seemed  _part_  of him. Sweat rolled down his face and Bucky suppressed an urge to cross the room and lick it away.

"What… what happened?"

Tony let go of the bellows and pushed it aside, but his eyes remained fixed on the fire. “Well, that’s the question, isn’t it?” he said. “Were you a shapeshifter before the Cabal captured you?”

"What? No!"

"Ah." Tony glanced at him briefly, and dragged his arm across his forehead. "You appear to be one now. I don’t think I can entirely unravel it without killing you. If it’s any consolation, you’re very nearly as beautiful a wolf as you are a man."

Bucky looked down at the runes on his false wrist, still glowing faintly red. He wanted to ask how Tony had survived unscathed. He wanted to ask whether Tony truly thought him beautiful. Instead he asked, “What  _can_  you do, then?”

Tony grinned as if he knew full well the questions Bucky had chosen not to ask. “More than they suspect,” he replied. “At the very least, I can alter the runes to give you control over the transformation, and allow you to keep your own mind in its grip.” He gestured into the forge’s flames, and Bucky saw a stone bowl there, its contents gleaming in the dim light like molten gold. Perhaps it  _was_  molten gold. Tony reached into the fire with his bare hand and, before Bucky could cry out in warning, scooped the bowl out of the cherry-red coals without so much as a flinch.

No wizard could do that, Bucky was certain of it.

"You’re not human, are you?" Bucky whispered.

Tony laughed, delighted, and the jewel in his chest  _was_  glowing, the light surging and fading in a rhythm like a slow heartbeat. “No,” Tony admitted, his smile rather toothier than it had been before, and for just an instant, Bucky’s vision was clouded by a ghostly image of red-and-gold wings curled over Tony’s shoulders, breathtakingly beautiful. “And neither are you, snowflake. Not any more.” He held out his free hand toward Bucky, inviting. “Let’s find out how much  _more than human_  you can be.”

Bucky hesitated.

"Come now, gorgeous. You’re in no more danger now than you were before," Tony pointed out. "Don’t you want to turn their nasty little magic back on them?"

Bucky smiled at that. “Yes,” he said. He crossed the room and put his hand in Tony’s. “Yes, I do.” He watched as Tony reached for some tool and took a grip on Bucky’s wrist, just above the runes. “Tony?”

"Yes?"

"When this is done, can I kiss you?"

Tony kept his eyes on his work, but his lips curved in a smile. “I’ve been waiting for you to ask.”

[ ](http://imaginetonyandbucky.tumblr.com/post/118547424346/)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 7-June-2015: Now with [matching art](http://imaginetonyandbucky.tumblr.com/post/118547424346/) from the amazing kamaete!  
> Oct-2015: As a note, this story was de-fic'ed, expanded somewhat, and included in the [Coming Together: Strange Shifters](http://www.amazon.com/Coming-Together-Shifters-Lynn-Townsend/dp/1518833470/) anthology, proceeds of which are donated to the Bat World Sanctuary!


	11. 7-Mar-2015: Modern AU: Bucky the Thief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Rating:** T
> 
>  **Prompt:** (modern day AU) imagine Bucky as a high class thief and takes a job to rob the Stark mansion of something highly valuable. once inside and having the object needed he goes to make his escape though upon seeing Tony (maybe after having to hide he chooses Tony's room by chance) he decides to steal him too. Tony doesn't mind, he was planning to move out of the mansion the next day anyways. -Anonymous
> 
>  **Warnings:** None

Tony splashed water over his face and looked at himself in the mirror for a long moment. The bruise on his cheekbone was already darkening from red into purple; by tomorrow it would be a whole rainbow of unpleasant colors. His mother would gasp and flutter and fuss and his father would mumble a half-hearted apology, and sometime in the next week Tony would be presented with an expensive gift — a new car, a designer watch, a vacation, some trumped-up “promotion” at Stark Industries that continued to not involve any actual responsibility.

Once, he’d taken pleasure in the gifts, but now they just wearied him. He didn’t want to earn nice things through his father’s guilt, he wanted to earn them with his father’s pride. Or at least through honest labor.

Maybe he should leave. Just walk out. It would be a few days before they realized he was actually gone and not just off on a bender. He’d have plenty of time to pull the money from his personal account and set himself up somewhere. But he’d have to do it alone. He trusted his few friends, but his father could apply a lot of pressure. He didn’t want them subjected to that.

Tony sighed and dried his hands, patted around the edges of the bruise with the towel, and trudged back toward his room. At least his parents were out at some event for one of his mother’s many charities; he didn’t have to sneak around his own house.

He opened the door to the room and froze in shock when the tall, dark figure by the window whirled to face him. “Tony?”

"James?" Tony managed. "What are you doing here?"

James appeared nearly as flummoxed as Tony. “I, I thought you were going to that thing with your folks tonight. I mean. I was going to sneak in and surprise you when you got home.” His guilty eyes and sultry smile made Tony’s stomach clench with despair.

_Not you, too_ , Tony wanted to cry.  _I thought you were real!_  God, that hurt both his heart and his pride; it had been  _years_  since Tony had last been taken in so thoroughly. But no matter how it hurt, Tony was still a Stark. “Last minute change of plans,” he said nonchalantly. “But I like the way you think, babe.” He stepped the rest of the way into the room and closed the door behind him.

"Yeah?" James didn’t move from his spot by the window, but he was giving Tony his best bedroom voice. "Well, why don’t you—" He stopped when Tony flicked on the light, his eyes widening in surprise as they locked onto the bruise. "Holy shit, Tony, what happened?"

It was even worse than the fake seduction, Tony decided, that James could make himself sound like he actually  _cared_. Tony kept his eyes on James’ face and put his hand over the panic button. “Nothing that concerns you,” Tony made himself say. “I  _liked_  you. I really did. So I’m going to give you one chance —  _one_  — to put back whatever it was that you came to steal and walk away before I hit this button and call the police.”

"Tony," James said softly, pleading, "let me explain. Please."

"What is there to explain?" Tony snarled, blinking back tears. "You wormed your way close to me to get access to the house and learn about the security grid. Nothing too complicated there. In and out, no muss, no fuss. Maybe you’d even have strung me along a little longer to stave off suspicion, right?"

"That was the original plan, yeah," James said, and fuck if he didn’t sound close to tears himself. "But Tony, you have to listen to me, I didn’t… I didn’t count on actually—"

"Oh, this is such bullshit," Tony said. "What are you going to say? That you actually fell for me and couldn’t go through with it? Kind of hard to defend when you’ve turned up on a night I’m not supposed to be here and I saw you stuffing your hand in your pocket as you turned around, wouldn’t you say?" Tony swallowed hard and lifted his chin. "Take it out, whatever it is, right now, or I’m hitting this button."

James bit his lip and nodded, and slowly pulled his left hand from his pocket to reveal a flash drive.

Tony’s lips tightened. “What is it?”

James met Tony’s eyes without flinching. “Fabrication specs for SI’s personal armor line. Including the latest, not-yet-patented upgrades.” He extended his hand, the drive resting in the center of his palm, offering it back to Tony.

But if Tony stepped forward to take it, he’d have his hand off the alarm switch for a moment. And a moment was all James would need. “How’d you get to the data?” Tony asked. “Those systems aren’t on the network and they’re biometrically sealed. Even I can’t get in.”

"I have my ways," James said, but he tipped his hand slightly and it shimmered, glinting like metal in the lamplight.

Some sort of glove, then, and Tony’s brain started whirling, trying to figure out how it worked. It was such a fascinating puzzle that he almost missed it when James continued, “And I wasn’t going to say that, Tony, about falling for you and changing my mind. I mean, I  _did_  fall for you. I know you probably won’t believe it, but I did. But I was always going to go through with this. I was just hoping I would be able to get you to go along with it.”

"Go  _along_  with it?” Tony’s voice broke on his incredulity. “You mean help you steal from _my own father_?”

"Your father treats you like shit, Tony," James said. His gaze flicked to the bruise on Tony’s face, then back to Tony’s eyes. "You don’t owe him anything. Come with me. Come work for— the guy I’m working for. He’d know how to value you. He’s a good man."

Tony snorted. “Such a good man that he hires a thief to steal his rival’s designs and doesn’t care if you break my heart in the process. Sure.”

"The methods were mine, not his. I won’t try to defend them. I can’t. But Tony, if your dad keeps these designs he’ll charge a fortune for the armor. It will take  _years_  for the stuff to become affordable enough that they’ll give it to regular grunts in the field, and those are the guys who need it the most.”

Tony smirked suddenly as the pieces fell into place. “You’re working for Rogers, aren’t you?”

"What? No."

"Yes," Tony said triumphantly. "He’s the only one in the defense supply business who talks like that outside of press conferences. And I happen to know that he recruited some of SHIELD’s best talent after they went down in flames and were forced to file for bankruptcy last year.  _Including_  their biometric securities division. My dad bitched about it for  _weeks_. You are  _totally_  working for Rogers.”

"Tony—"

"Okay."

James stopped, mouth still open, and stared at him. “…What?”

"Okay. Yes. I’ll come with you. I want out of SI and out of this house, and I think Rogers has the strategic intelligence to know how to implement my technical brilliance. So, yes. I’m coming. It’ll be fun to see Howard try to play it off as some kind of internship or something when the word gets out." Tony slowly lowered his hand from the panic button, and tried not to feel too relieved when James relaxed and didn’t jump immediately for the window. Tony opened his closet door and pulled out a suitcase. "But you are still in serious trouble for all this, you got that?"

James lifted his chin, just slightly. “Yeah, I figured. I just… Is there any hope of earning your forgiveness?”

Tony paused in the act of tossing his most important gear into the case, but couldn’t quite meet James’ eyes. “What if I said no?”

James swallowed, so loud Tony could hear it from across the room. “Told you I wouldn’t try to defend my methods,” he said softly. “I’m sorry, I truly am. But if you can’t ever forgive me, then I’ll leave you be. I’m just grateful to know you’ll be leaving here.”

Tony closed his eyes and felt his heart pounding. “That sounded honest,” he said. “Was it?”

"Yes."

It was either the stupidest or the smartest thing Tony had ever done, he supposed, and only time would tell him which. He looked up at James and smiled, not caring at the way it made his bruised cheek ache. “Then I expect I’ll let you work your way back into my good graces.”

James took a tentative step closer, his eyes lighting up hopefully. “Yeah?”

"Yeah." Tony reached out and caught James’ hand, pulling him into a hug. "You already knew I was a sucker for your pretty face, after all."

"Well, it’s a  _very_  pretty face,” James said, but his grip on Tony was too tight and trembled too much to match his casual tone.

Tony tucked his face into the curve of James’ throat. “Does Rogers know you’re bringing me in?”

"Nope," James admitted cheerfully.

Tony laughed, a little desperately. “This is all going to end in disaster, isn’t it?”

"It always does, for someone." James squeezed Tony again, then reluctantly let go. "Come on, let’s finish getting you packed."


	12. 8-Mar-2015: Fighting Style

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Rating:** T
> 
>  **Prompt:** imagine Bucky, Tony and Steve are out on a coffee run when some random people decide to kidnap Tony. Steve and Bucky take care of some of the guys when they go to help Tony. to their surprise Tony is kicking ass, and Bucky and Steve know that style of fighting. it's Peggy's fighting style. turns out Peggy taught Tony to defend himself and she taught him well, he fights just like the way we see her fight in the Agent Carter show. -Anonymous
> 
>  **Warnings:** None

Much as Steve loved the Avengers, sometimes it was nice like this — just him and his two best friends. He’d hesitated to join them today — they’donly  _finally_  started dating a week or so ago, and Steve was under the definite impression that coffee was a “date” thing these days — but Tony had glanced up over the edge of the phone with that raised-eyebrow  _look_ , and Bucky’s eyes had rolled, and now here they were, strolling the Manhattan sidewalk. Bucky and Steve were reminiscing and Tony was teasing them about it, and it felt… good.

Comfortable and easy. Happy, even.

Bucky paused to look in the window of a clothing shop, and Steve stopped as well. He didn’t know much about fashion, still, but he liked the look of the bomber jacket on one of the mannequins.

Tony stopped several steps further along, after realizing he’d lost his super-soldiers. “The coffee place is just a few doors down, so I’m going to go ahead, and you guys can catch up, okay?”

"Don’t forget to tell ‘em I want extra whip!" Bucky called.

Tony waved in acknowledgment, and continued on his way.

"What d’ya think of that blue shirt?" Bucky said.

Steve snorted. “I think if you’ve fallen as low as asking  _me_  about clothes that you already know you want it and are just looking for an excuse.”

"It’d make my eyes stand out," Bucky said.

"Tony does like your eyes," Steve agreed gamely.

Bucky cut a sideways look at Steve. “I can’t tell if you’re—” He cut off as his phone blared an alarm, as did Steve’s.

The Avengers alert on Steve’s phone showed a map that they were already part of, and with a jolt, Steve realized it had come from  _Tony_ , only half a block away in the coffee shop.

Bucky was already running, flat-out.

Steve burst into the shop on Bucky’s heels to find absolute mayhem. Five guys in black had spread out into a ring around Tony, who was backed up against the condiments counter, his expression curled into a snarl. There was a sixth guy already out, and several of the five were sporting bruises and bloody noses.

"Tony!" Bucky yelled and jumped into the fray before the attackers had fully realized he was even there.

Tony’s snarl spread into a feral grin. While the attackers were all being distracted by Bucky’s charge, he snatched up the half-and-half creamer from the counter behind him and clocked the nearest goon in the face, then dropped it when the guy grabbed at it rather than wrestle over it, kicking the guy in the knee instead.

Bucky was fighting two guys, and then Steve was closing with another two, and the goons must have all been jacked up on  _some_ thing, because two regular guys wouldn’t normally have so much as slowed either of them down. Steve dialed up his estimation of Tony yet again for having already taken one down and held the others off long enough for Steve and Bucky to arrive.

Bucky finished off his two just as Steve managed to clock his second guy, and they both turned to help Tony, who was — Steve winced — stabbing at the guy’s eyes with a handful of coffee stirrer straws.

"That looks familiar, somehow," Steve said, even as he snatched up a barstool to use as a weapon.

Bucky, who had started the job of tying up his and Steve’s fallen opponents, rolled his eyes. “He fights like  _Peggy_ , you numbskull,” Bucky said. “All ‘r nothin’, no holds barred, winner takes all.” He grinned wide, glancing at Tony with an expression that could only be described as  _smitten_. ”It’s  _gorgeous_.”

"Oh," Steve said, and now that Bucky had said so, it was easy enough to see. This wasn’t the way Tony fought as Iron Man, but the armor wouldn’t have been well-suited to this sort of attack. Steve knew, vaguely, that Peggy had known Tony when he was young, of course, but he hadn’t realized she had taught Tony how to fight. It was warming, just a bit, to know that she was still taking care of Steve and the people he cared about, even in this roundabout way. The happy smile Steve had on his face was probably a bit out of place as he bashed the last attacker in the back of the head with the barstool, but Steve didn’t much care.

He went to talk to the coffee shop’s manager while Bucky stepped in to make sure Tony wasn’t too badly injured. While they were waiting for the police to arrive, Steve managed to talk the barista into making them their coffees. All three with extra whip, Steve decided: they’d earned it.


	13. 9-Mar-2015: Visiting Peggy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Rating:** T
> 
>  **Prompt:**  
>  -Imagine Tony and Bucky going to see Peggy in the nursing home. Bucky's already gone to see her with Steve but not with Tony yet. she's having one of her good days and when she sees Tony her eyes light up and she smiles and says 'oh Ducky, hello!' happily. Tony blushes at the old nickname and Bucky is curious to know why his nickname is Ducky (hint: it involves the backyard pond, a whole tone of rubber ducks and Jarvis getting said rubber ducks.) -Anonymous  
> \- Bucky and Tony go to visit Peggy often at her retirement home and she thinks they are adorable together. -Anonymous  
> \- imagine Bucky and Tony visiting Peggy. Bucky’s surprised Tony knows Peggy but it makes sense she’d have been in Tony’s life. and when Peggy finds out Bucky is dating Tony she gets this glint in her eye that Bucky remembers from the war. she proceeds to instruct Bucky to get some old photo albums she has in her room and then shows him all the photos of Tony she has much to Tony’s embarrassment and Bucky’s delight. Tony was an adorable child and there’s even one of baby tony in a cap onesie. -Anonymous
> 
>  **Warnings:** None

It was obvious that Tony was well-known here, if only from the number of greetings that had been exchanged between the front door and the nurse’s station on Peggy’s floor. “How often do you visit?” Bucky asked, trying to distract himself from nervousness.

"Not as often as I’d like," Tony answered as he knocked on the door. "Whenever I get down here to DC, if I can manage it, which is, what, maybe every four to six weeks?"

"With your schedule, that’s pretty often," Bucky said. He’d only come twice before, himself, both times with Steve.

"That’s what she says, too," Tony said, and Bucky was coming to recognize that warm tone in his voice, affection and fondness that he didn’t often allow himself to talk about aloud.

Bucky wanted to ask if they should avoid letting on about their relationship, but before he could open his mouth, the door was opening.

Bucky was closer to the door and Peggy’s eye fell on him first. He stood straight and careful, in case she didn’t recognize him, but she smiled when she saw him. “James,” she said, “how good of you to visit! And you’ve brought a fri—”

If her smile had been welcoming when she saw Bucky, it was nothing like the delight that crinkled her eyes when she spotted Tony. “Ducky! I’m so glad to see you, darling!” She held her hands out to Tony and he took them, drawing her into a careful hug.

"Aunt Peggy," he greeted her. "Sorry I’ve been a while."

"Nonsense, you’re a busy man. Come in, the both of you." Peggy stepped back to usher them into her tiny apartment.

"Ducky?" Bucky asked with a grin.

"Shut up," Tony hissed. "State secret." Was his neck turning red? Bucky hadn’t thought  _anything_  had the power to embarrass Tony Stark.

"Such a liar," Peggy teased fondly. She patted Bucky’s metal arm and, having caught his attention, pointed to a little bookshelf on the far wall. "Bring us the… the green one, I think."

"Peggy," Tony groaned.

"The delight of my waning years," Peggy told Tony sharply, shooing him toward the long couch, "is that I can do whatever I like."

"You’ve  _always_  done whatever you like, Aunt Peg,” Tony told her with a smile as he sat on one end of the sofa.

"More or less," she agreed, and promptly placed herself in the center, patting the empty cushion on her other side invitingly for Bucky. "So I hope you don’t expect I’d stop now."

"I could hope that your enduring fondness for me would prevent you from embarrassing me in front of Bucky," Tony said.

"Oh, so you do know each other, then," Peggy said, taking the large green book from Bucky and started turning pages, and the book resolved into an old scrapbook and photo album. "I’d wondered if you might have just met in the hall."

"No, we know each other just fine," Bucky said. He wondered if he should say more, but then Peggy let out a cheerful exclamation and Tony groaned with dread.

Peggy angled the enormous book toward Bucky. “Look, there he is as just a tiny thing!” The faded picture showed a baby barely old enough to stand, rosy-cheeked and wide-eyed, and if Peggy hadn’t said so, Bucky would never have picked it out as Tony. He was wearing some kind of one-piece suit that bore a striking resemblance to Steve’s old uniform.

"Oh my god," Bucky laughed, and Tony leaned forward to glare at him, which only made him laugh harder. "Tony, this is adorable."

"I know," growled Tony. He flopped back against the couch and folded his arms. "Okay, you’ve done your auntly duties, Peggy, time to put the book away."

"Not until I find the picture of the ducks," Peggy said serenely, turning a few more pages. "Look, here’s that article about that computer you built when you were what? Four? Five?"

"Four, and why do you even have that article?" Tony sighed. "It’s ridiculous. Such a terrible puff piece."

"Anthony Edward Stark," Peggy said. "You know exactly why— Oh, here we go!" She laid the book flat so Bucky and Tony could both see it, though Tony looked like he’d rather be looking at  _anything_  else.

This picture showed a well-manicured lawn with what looked like a pond, and its surface was, as near as Bucky could see,  _entirely_  covered with yellow. Yellow water lilies, perhaps? He leaned closer to look, and then closer still. “Are those—?”

"Rubber duckies," Peggy proclaimed cheerfully. "Approximately one thousand of them, if I recall."

Tony was rubbing at his temple as if he had a headache, but Bucky was reasonably certain it was a ploy to cover his darkening blush.

He looked back at the picture. On the side of the picture was a tall, well-dressed man with what looked like a butterfly net, surveying the pond with an resigned expression. It wasn’t Howard; Bucky would’ve known Howard anywhere. “Who’s that?”

"Jarvis," Tony said, so softly that Bucky couldn’t make out any emotion underlying it. "He was my dad’s butler. He practically raised me."

"Is that why you named—"

"JARVIS the AI is named after him, yes. It’s not a secret or anything."

Peggy’s mouth was set in the sad smile of nostalgia. “I rather miss him,” she said, matter-of-factly. “He was a good friend.”

They were both going to start bawling soon, Bucky was afraid. “Tell me about these ducks,” he said, hoping to lighten the mood.

"Oh, Tony saw some ridiculous thing on the telly—" Peggy started.

"It wasn’t ridiculous; I was  _five_ ,” Tony interrupted to point out.

"—and he became convinced that the pond wasn’t a proper pond if it didn’t have any ducks. So somehow — don’t ask me how — he got hold of his mother’s credit card—"

"It really wasn’t that hard, you  _knew_  Mom—”

"—and ordered them all up. And it might have all been averted when they arrived, except that Howard was out of town, and I’m afraid the nanny they had just then wasn’t a match for our Ducky’s wit and charm. He built some sort of contraption—"

"It was a  _conveyor belt_ ,” Tony filled in, very seriously, though Bucky could see his lips were beginning to twitch with an unwilling smile. “Because I wasn’t allowed to go near the pond by myself, and once upon a time, I was actually well-behaved. And I think Dad had just taken me on a tour of one of the factories and I was very impressed with the notion of the conveyor belt at the time.” Tony’s smile soured slightly. “I’m sure that’s not what he’d wanted me to take interest in, of course.”

Peggy patted Tony’s leg absently. “So by the time the poor child realized what was going on, Tony had emptied all these ducks into the pond. The groundskeeper flat refused to have a thing to do with it, so poor Jarvis had to fish them all out and figure out how to deal with them before Howard got home.”

Tony’s smile had grown amused again. “He actually had to wade into the pond for the last few. Poor Jarvis.”

"Oh, I don’t think he minded," Peggy said, and patted Tony’s leg again. "You certainly kept his life interesting."

"I expect he would’ve preferred something a little calmer," Tony said.

"I really don’t think he would," Peggy said. She closed the book. "Well, there’s our little trip down memory lane, I think." She nudged Bucky firmly with her elbow. "Help an old lady up, James."

"No old ladies here," Bucky said, mock-serious. "But I’ll offer my arm to the prettiest dame in the room, if you don’t mind." He stood and held out his right arm for Peggy to take hold of.

"Always with the silver tongue," she chided, even as she used his arm to pull herself to her feet. He didn’t budge at all; she barely weighed anything. "How does Tony put up with your flirtatious ways?"

"I, what?" Bucky said, startled.

Peggy sniffed. “I’m old, not blind,” she said. “You two have been making moon-eyes at each other since you walked through the door. It’s rather adorable, actually. Now, I’m going to go make some tea. Biscuits or sandwiches?”


	14. 13-Mar-2015: What If Loki Won (AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Rating:** T
> 
>  **Prompt:** Imagine Loki's invasion worked but instead of enslaving humanity he killed most of it (since Thanos curts Lady Death with deaths etc etc) but because of some reason Tony survived and went underground. When the Winter Soldier, long lost without any handlers but still working on instinkt, meets the engineer in a dire situation, his protectiveness kicks in. (and maybe they try to find Steve and/or Tasha?) -Anonymous
> 
>  **Warnings:** None

Tony tries not to think too much of the others. He’s certain that if they’re alive and free, they’re all still fighting. He can’t imagine any of them bending the knee, not to the likes of Loki or Thanos.

But he doesn’t know if they’re free, or even if they still live. He hears rumors, from time to time, each less believable than the last: Thor bound in chains in a cell directly under the feet of Loki’s long-coveted throne, the Hulk conducting one-man guerilla raids on Loki’s installations in South America, Hawkeye recaptured and once again enslaved, one of the ritual sacrifices disrupted by a man with a star on his chest. But rumors, after all, are worth no more than the breath they’re whispered with.

If they were alive and free, Tony thinks on his darker days, he’d hear more. He’d hear of uprisings from those who are left, led by familiar faces. There would be demands of surrender, bribes for betrayal. If Loki hadn’t already crushed them, Tony thinks, then Loki would be hunting them, and Tony would hear about it.

Other days, the world seems a little brighter. Loki, diva that he is, if he had even one of the others in his grasp, he wouldn’t hesitate to make a show of it to try to demoralize the stubbornly lingering pockets of opposition. Some mockery of a trial, perhaps, followed by public torture and execution. Loki’s never been able to resist putting on a good show.

But mostly, Tony doesn’t think about them. Even if they’re all free, they’re better off staying separated.

Or that’s what he tells himself. But if that were truly the case, he wouldn’t be here in this ghost town, following the cryptic instructions he’s stumbled across carved on the side of an old water tower and “signed” with what looked like an hourglass.

It’s probably a trap. He’s almost certain it’s a trap.

But he can’t stay away. Not if there’s even a chance that Natasha is waiting at the end of this trail of clues.

He wonders, if it is her, whether she knows he’s following. Whether she’s heard the rumors of him that circle back to his ears from time to time: the modern-day Diogenes with his lamp embedded in his chest, searching for a hope so slender its existence may be merely theoretical.

The breadcrumbs of this trail lead to a bank. It’s almost certainly a trap, but it could be Natasha, and that’s all Tony needs to know. He marshals his defenses and goes in.

It is, of course, a trap.

Tony is far from helpless, even without a suit, but there are at least a dozen of them and they’ve got two Chitauri soldiers in their ranks: this is one of Loki’s elite squads.

Well. He’s got a few surprises up his sleeves (literally, in a couple of cases); he’s pretty sure he’s going down, but it won’t be without a fight. He backs up against the wall and lets them try to sneer him into submission; every second they hesitate is another second he is figuring angles and odds, is another one of them he’s going to take with him.

He hadn’t calculated on the fight starting without him, though. The black-clad man with the dark hair who charges out of the shadows kills three of them before Tony can even manage to stop gaping. He manages to pitch in himself, then, throwing out some tricks of his own and helping to even the odds.

When it’s all over, the two of them are left standing in the middle of the carnage, Tony panting with exertion and his unlooked-for savior watching him with unnervingly steady grey eyes.

"Uh. Thanks," Tony manages after a bit.

The man’s head tips, just slightly. Not a nod of acknowledgement, but a gesture of confusion. “Are you the new handler?” he asks, his voice raspy as if from long disuse.

Tony has seen a lot of odd things in the last two years, but this takes the cake. Still, he’s not about to throw away any advantage he can get his hands on, and he’s never been one to be timid when the option to be bold is before him. “Sure,” he agrees. “Let’s go with that for now. Why don’t you give me a status report while we clean out these guys’ pockets and find a place to dump the bodies?”

With an ally at his back, Tony thinks, he just might have enough heart to resume his search.

Rumors, after all, are worth no more than the breath they’re whispered with — but these days, each breath is a precious commodity.


	15. 15-Mar-2015: Super-Serum Tony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Rating:** T
> 
>  **Prompt:** Imagine Tony getting a dose of super-serum or something like it while he's kidnapped. the people who kidnapped him didn't want money or weapons they just wanted to see if the serum they had would work and hey, Tony was conveniently ripe for the picking (maybe they plucked him from the street at random). so after he's saved he has to get used to his new strength. door knobs break. glasses break. tablets break. Bucky helps him through it, an upside to it is the extra stamina Tony now has in bed. -Anonymous
> 
>  **Warnings:** None

It’s Natasha and Bucky who find him, strapped to the table and barely conscious.Tony is grateful for that, later, when he can think again, because what if it had been Clint and Sam?

Bucky takes the IV out of his arm and starts releasing the straps while Natasha dives for the computer bank.

"The hell are you doing, Romanov?" Bucky snaps, in between trying to reassure Tony.

"They’ve done something to him," Natasha says, tightly controlled the way she only is when she’s worried. "Bruce is going to want their data when he’s feeling less green."

The last restraint falls away and Tony all but falls from the tilted table. He flails and grabs at Bucky’s shoulder — the good one — to catch himself. Bucky flinches and hisses in pain even as he catches Tony up in his arms. “Ow, shit, fuck,” he growls.

Tony snatches his hand back, cradling it against his chest. “Sorry,” he pants. “Are you wounded?”

"Didn’t think I was," Bucky says, “but  _ow_.” When Tony carefully pulls the collar of his shirt aside to look, there’s a bruise already forming in the shape of Tony’s hand.

"We’ll worry about that later," Bucky says firmly. "Let’s get you home now. Nat?"

Natasha pulls a flash drive from the computer and snatches up the bags hanging from the IV stand for good measure. “Let’s go.”

***

On the jet home, Bucky stays by Tony’s side, not leaving for an instant. If the last week had been less harrowing, Tony would probably find the hovering an annoyance, but for the moment, it’s a comfort.

Clint brings them mugs of coffee, which is his way of saying that he’d been worried, too. Tony smiles gratefully and takes his in a hand that is still trembling from exhaustion and fear and adrenaline burnout.

The mug shatters, showering him and Bucky both with scalding coffee, though Clint manages to dodge aside nimbly. “Fuck, shit, ow!” Tony curses. “What the hell!”

Bruce looks up from where he’s been skimming the notes Natasha had brought. There’s still rubble in his hair and the sweatshirt he’d pulled on when he returned to his normal size is on backwards, but his eyes are deadly serious when they meet Tony’s. “We’ve got a problem, guys.”

***

Tony doesn’t realize that Bucky’s come into the workshop until he says, “Bruce is going to figure this thing out.”

Tony’s too tired for optimism. “And if he doesn’t?”

The copycat serum is unstable. Tony’s strength changes from hour to hour according to no predictable pattern. At his weakest, he’s only about twice as strong as he had been before, just a bit stronger than Clint; at the strongest, he’s nearly a match for the Hulk. And there’s no way to tell where he is on the scale at any given time. He can’t feel it when it changes. Steve and Bucky have both offered advice on how they adjusted to their own sudden increases of strength, but they didn’t have this invisible sliding scale to cope with.

It’s been three days, and every time Tony thinks he’s adjusted, he rips a doorknob out, or tears a cabinet door off its hinges, or smashes the screen of a tablet because he’s stronger than he was ten minutes earlier. Or he’s weaker, so he drops a glass because he didn’t grip it tightly enough, or walks into a door that he didn’t pull on hard enough. He’s a walking hazard, to himself and the team.

Worse, the serum’s accelerated Tony’s aging process by — as near as Bruce can tell — a factor of four. Tony’s already on the wrong side of forty; if they can’t get it fixed, then he’s going to die of old age before he sees fifty-five. Assuming he makes it even that long.

Bucky walks across the room, gently turns Tony’s chair around, and nudges Tony’s knees apart until he can stand between them. He cups Tony’s jaw in his metal hand, forcing Tony to look up at him. “Bruce will figure it out,” he says firmly, allowing no room for objection. “Come to bed, Tony. You haven’t slept since the first night we got you back.”

Tony turns his head. “And pulverize you if I flail in my sleep?”

Bucky pulls off his t-shirt in one fluid motion. Tony can’t  _not_  look.

Bucky looks down at his good shoulder. “Bruises are all gone,” he points out. “I heal fast. You’re not gonna hurt me that bad.”

"I might," Tony says. He leans in and kisses Bucky, the lightest possible brush of their lips. "I _want_  to, shiverbuns. But I can’t risk it.”

Bucky gives him a long look, then sighs. “Okay.”

"Okay?" Tony hadn’t expected such easy capitulation. Bucky’s stubbornness is outmatched only by Steve’s.

"Okay," Bucky repeats patiently. "I got it. You’re worried. I ain’t gonna add to it, not yet."

Tony hesitates, as if waiting for the other shoe to drop, then says, “Thank you.”

Bucky kisses Tony’s cheek. “You’re welcome.” He nuzzles at the spot between Tony’s ear and jaw until he’s teased a smile from Tony’s lips, then straightens and heads deeper into the workshop.

"Uh, Bucky?"

"I’m not making you come to bed," Bucky points out. "But I’m not letting you out of my sight, either." He flops down onto the couch and puts his feet up on the table with a grin.

***

"Damn it," Tony growls. The apple he’d been about to eat is now applesauce and all over his shirt and pants. Still swearing under his breath, he goes to the sink to wash all the pulp and juice off his hand, and only at the very last second remembers to tap the faucet’s controls extra-gently to avoid ripping them off the wall.

"You’re getting better at adjusting once a change has hit," Bucky observes from his spot on the couch, where he’s been for the last two days.

"But still destroying something or injuring myself a good seventy-five percent of the time when the change happens," Tony sighs.

"Yeah," Bucky agrees. "Too bad you can’t put pressure sensors in your fingers like I’ve got in mine."

Tony blinks. He shuts the water off again, only a little too hard, and shakes the water off his fingers (he ripped the hand towel in half yesterday and hasn’t been bothered to fetch a new one yet) before turning to look at Bucky again. “What?”

"I just said, it’s too bad you can’t have pressure sensors like I’ve got," Bucky said, lifting his left hand and wiggling the metal fingers by way of demonstration.

"Maybe I can," Tony breathes. Designs are blooming behind his eyes.

"Tony." Bucky sounds faintly alarmed. "Tony, my arm is wired directly into my nervous system; let me assure you that is  _not something you want_. Babe, tell me you’re listening to me. Do not start fucking around with your nervous system, Tony.”

Tony waves dismissively. “No, nothing that elaborate,” he says. “JARVIS, open up a new file. Copy over the schematics for Bucky’s hand, the Mark Forty-two’s gauntlets, and, hmm… oh, the latest under-armor.”

***

Bucky’s asleep on the couch, but Tony can’t make himself wait. This news, he decides, is worth waking his lover for. He climbs onto the couch, straddling Bucky’s thighs, and reaches down to grip Bucky’s shoulders, shaking him gently. “Bucky. Wake up!”

Bucky’s eyes open and do an automatic scan of the room before focusing on Tony’s face. “Tone?”

Tony grins and tightens his grip on Bucky’s shoulders, just enough.

Bucky blinks, and then suddenly gets it. His face lights up in a smile as he props himself up on his elbows. “You figured it out?”

Tony grins and holds up his hands, which are encased in tight-fitting gloves, and then gestures at the skin-tight bodysuit of the underarmor he’s wearing. “I figured it out,” he agrees. “Well,  _you_  figured it out, I just implemented it. Pressure sensors and a feedback loop. When it passes a particular threshold, the gloves deliver an electric current that causes temporary paralysis.”

Bucky’s eyebrows raise. “That sounds… painful.”

Tony winces, because Bucky and electric currents are not best buddies. “Totally safe, actually quite minor,” he reassures his lover swiftly. “And it only lasts a fraction of a second, just long enough for me to register and stop increasing pressure.”

"You’re sure?"

"Positive."

Bucky takes a deep breath, and nods. “What about— Some things take more pressure than others.”

"Yeah, this is a proof-of-concept," Tony admits, "so it only has three settings right now, and I’ve got it erring on the more delicate side of the equation. But I’ve got a prototype in the works for a more resilient system, with a low-level AI for—" He breaks off because Bucky is kissing him.

And oh,  _god_ , has Tony missed this, these last few days. He doesn’t let himself push back into it — there’s no pressure sensors on his mouth — but he can let his fingers curl around Bucky’s neck, fist in Bucky’s hair. He moans in mingled relief and reaction.

"I can’t take the suit off," he says regretfully when they come up for air.

"No, I guess not." Bucky leans back and looks Tony up and down, zeroing in on the seals and flaps that Tony built into the suit so he could go to the bathroom on longer missions without having to strip entirely. "We can work around it," Bucky says, and runs his hands over Tony’s body, over the suit, seeking out the sensitive spots.

Tony shudders at the touch. The separation of the suit is maddening, but it’s still so much better than the minimal touching he’s allowed himself for most of the last week.

"We should," he gasps, "we should tell the others. Pretty sure I can handle going on missions again, and—"

"Later," Bucky asserts, and Tony can’t think of a single reason to argue.

***

It turns out the serum has some great side effects to make up for the shitty ones.

Tony hasn’t had this kind of stamina since he was a horny sixteen-year-old.

Wait, strike that:  _ever_.

***

A few days later, Bruce finally makes a breakthrough that means he’ll be able to neutralize the knockoff serum.

Tony slumps in relief at the news. He’s adjusting better, now, but he’d still like to be able to take off the undersuit for longer than it takes to shower, and to touch things with his hands, and — oh yeah, to stop feeling the jolt of an electric shock immobilizing his limbs every few hours.

Bruce smiles with something like understanding at Tony’s reaction and says he expects to have a counterserum prepared in two days.

"Two days, huh?" Tony says. He squeezes Bruce’s shoulder in thanks, then throws a grin at Bucky. "Should be just about enough time."


	16. 16-Mar-2015: Being Outed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Rating:** T
> 
>  **Prompt:**  
>  -Imagine Tony and Bucky are together but no one knows. While at a major PR event, Bucky overhears what he thinks is someone (Pepper/Steve/Rhodey/Bruce/anyone) asking Tony out and freaks. Bucky storms out and in front of the team, the press, and everyone else n makes it very clear that he and Tony are seriously involved. -Anonymous  
> \- Prompt: How Shield found out Bucky and Tony were dating. -Anonymous  
> \- Imagine Tony and Bucky’s relationship getting out to the media before they were ready. -themidgey
> 
>  **Warnings:** None

Everyone thought Tony was impatient and brusque, but they didn’t know him like Bucky did. When it was important, when it  _mattered_ ,Tony had all the patience in the world.

Bucky pressed his forehead into the hollow of Tony’s shoulder, shivering. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I know it’s taking forever.”

Tony’s fingers, long and delicate and far stronger than they looked, curled into Bucky’s hair. “It’s okay,” he said. Patient, patient, patient. Sometimes Bucky wished he was a little _less_  patient.

"Feels like I’m doin’ you wrong," Bucky sighed. "Should be shouting it from the rafters, how happy you make me—"

"Bucky," Tony said, quiet but firm. "It’s all right. You’re not ready. I get it. It’s terrifying, the first time you tell someone. I  _know_. It’s okay. I can wait. You’ll get there.” Tony kissed the top of Bucky’s head, then gently tipped his face up and kissed his lips, lingering but chaste. “You’re worth waiting for.”

Bucky couldn’t help but smile at that, if only a little. He searched Tony’s eyes and saw only love and affection and boundless patience. “Love you,” he managed. “I do. So much. Even if I can’t seem to tell anyone.”

Tony kissed him again. “I know. Love you too.” Tony released him and stepped back. “And if you’re going to make yourself presentable in time for the meet-and-greet tonight you’d better get going.”

Bucky groaned. “Do I have to?”

"Absolutely," Tony said cheerfully. "If I have to suffer, you have to suffer, Sparky. Besides, Steve’ll be glad of some support. I think he hates these things even worse than Bruce, which I didn’t think was even possible."

Bucky let his shoulders slump in defeat: if Tony and Steve were on the same side of a question, there was no way Bucky could fight it. “Fine,” he grumbled. “I want  _epic sex_  later to make up for it.”

"You drive a hard bargain," Tony said, mock-solemn.

***

At least the bar was good. Bucky leaned on it with his left elbow, drinking steadily and watching the room (watching Tony).

Tony was in his element, trading greetings and jokes, shaking hands and kissing cheeks. It was his “public” smile, wide and false, and it made Bucky’s spine crawl to see, but only because he knew what Tony’s  _real_  smile looked like.

He was flirting, too, like he always did, and Bucky would have to be blind not to see how many responded with hopeful hints to take it a step further, to move beyond the realm of playful charm and into one of hands and mouths and skin…

Bucky drew a sharp breath and snapped back his drink.  _Idiot_ , he chided himself, and signaled the bartender for another.

When Bucky turned back toward the room, Tony was  _staring_  at the man in front of him, eyes round and mouth gaping. Bucky could see no more of the man than well-tailored suit shoulders, slightly hunched, thinning hair on the top of his head, hands lifting in a placating gesture—

Tony closed his mouth with a snap Bucky imagined was audible from across the room and pulled the man into a hug, and  _that_  was a surprise. His eyes were closed tight, his lips pressed together.

Frowning, Bucky slid from his barstool and began to make his way across the room. Whoever this man was, he’d never seen Tony lose control of his emotions in public like this.

By the time Bucky had gotten within earshot, the man was returning Tony’s embrace, patting his shoulder soothingly. “—for so long,” he was saying, “but I’m back now. And I know the timing is lousy, but… I want you to think about coming back.”

Tony’s head jerked up, and he stared at the man with hope blooming in his eyes, and it made Bucky’s blood turn to ice. “Really?”

"No," Bucky gasped, finally pushing through the last of the people between them. He caught Tony’s face in his hands and kissed him fiercely. "Don’t, Tony, I—"

“What?” Tony looked confused, but his hand curved around Bucky’s hip without a hint of reluctance.

“Don’t leave me,” Bucky begged.

Tony broke into startled laughter. “Oh god, you thought— No, stop. It’s okay, I promise.” He pulled Bucky into a brief hug, kissing his cheek, then pulled back and gestured at the other man. “Let me introduce you. Buck, this is— Is Phil Coulson, the new director of SHIELD.  _Who I thought was dead,_ " he added, giving Coulson a pointed glare.

Coulson made that placating gesture again, then turned his gaze to Bucky. “And you are the Winter Soldier, aka James ‘Bucky’ Barnes.” He smiled thinly, then glanced back at Tony. “And apparently Mr. Stark’s, ah, boyfriend. I have to say, I hadn’t heard that tidbit.”

"That’s because we haven’t told anyone," Tony said tightly. "So if you could keep it to yourself for—"

"I, uh. I don’t think that’s gonna be possible anymore," Bucky interrupted.

Everyone around them had stopped whatever they were doing and were staring at them, and the ripple of attention was beginning to spread with a quiet murmur. An event photographer lowered his camera and looked at the playback screen and hissed a quiet, “ _Yes!_ ”

Bucky scanned the room and found Steve. He looked stunned, which answered Bucky’s initial question. But then he spotted Bucky looking at him. He glanced at Tony, then back to Bucky and shrugged:  _Whaddyagonnado?_  He smiled and gave Bucky a thumbs-up.

The ice in Bucky’s veins melted all at once, and he turned back to Tony. “It’s all right. I think I’m ready,” he said, and was proud that his voice didn’t shake.

"Yeah?" Tony’s lips were curving into a smile.

Bucky was overcome with a desire to kiss that smile from Tony’s face — and then overcome again at the realization that if they weren’t hiding anymore, he  _could_. “Yeah,” he said. He reached for Tony and twisted, dipping Tony low. Tony just laughed and held onto Bucky’s neck, and kissed him, not deeply but holding it for the suddenly cheering crowd and flashing cameras.

Bucky was blushing hard when he pulled Tony back upright, but couldn’t seem to help his own smile.

"Phil," Tony said, not looking away from Bucky’s face, "I am going to leave you to Natasha and Clint’s tender mercies, and then whatever’s left can deal with Steve.  _I_  have been dying for a dance with my boyfriend  _all night_.”

Bucky hadn’t even noticed Tasha and Clint approaching from opposite sides, their startled gazes fixed not on the spectacle of him and Tony, but on Coulson. Clint looked dumbfounded; Tasha looked pleasantly blank in a way that made Bucky nearly sorry for the guy.

And this was bound to cause a media frenzy, he knew; he and Tony were going to be spending the next couple of weeks at  _least_  having to field questions from nosy reporters, not to even mention having to face the music from their own team for having kept it a secret.

But he couldn’t think about any of that now, not when Tony was waiting to dance with him. Such patience, after all, ought to be rewarded.


	17. 17-Mar-2015: Multiverse Crossover: Earth 3490

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Rating:** T
> 
>  **Prompt:** just imagine Natasha Stark and Bucky Barnes -Anonymous
> 
>  **Warnings:** None

Bucky had his gun out and pointed before he had taken in any details; all his reflexes needed to know was that there was a stranger in Tony’s workshop, a stranger  _alone_  in Tony’s workshop, unescorted.

She put her hands up with gratifying speed. “I can explain,” she said.

"JARVIS, get Tony in here on the double," Bucky snarled, edging around the table for a better line of fire.

"Sir," JARVIS said, sounding pained, "my sensors indicate that Master Stark is already present."

"What the everloving—"

"JARVIS," the woman said smoothly, "perform a secondary scan and widen your search to include multiple results parameters." She gave Bucky an apologetic smile, and squinted to see into the shadow Bucky was using for cover. "Is that… James?"

"Lady, I’ll be asking the questions here."

She shrugged, a gesture entirely too like Tony’s nonchalant dismissal of imminent danger. “Ask away.”

"Where the hell did you come from? And how’d you fool JARVIS?"

The woman sighed. “I came from another universe, Earth-3490 to be precise, and I didn’t fool JARVIS so much as confuse him.” She cocked her head. “My name is Natasha Stark.”

Bucky startled. “Stark as in—”

"My friends call me Tasha," she offered. She obligingly kept her hands up, but used her chin to point at Tony’s latest armor, hanging from its chains. "In my universe,  _I’m_  Iron Man.”

Bucky snorted. “You’re not a man.”

"It’s not like I built a bustier into the suit," she said, in a tone that suggested she’d given this explanation more times than she cared to count. "And it was good for maintaining my secret identity, if the press thought it was a man in the suit. By the time I was revealed, the name was stuck."

"Can you prove any of this?" Bucky demanded.

"You mean, aside from the fact that JARVIS registers my biometrics as identical with your Stark’s? Probably, but I’d have to put my hands down."

"JARVIS, you found  _my_  Tony yet?” Bucky asked.

"Indeed, sir," JARVIS said. The AI sounded slightly breathless. "He and Captain Rogers are on their way."

Natasha looked, of all things, relieved. “Steve’s okay?”

Bucky glared at her suspiciously. “Why wouldn’t he be?”

"I’ve been to about thirty different universes in the last week," she said, "and you really don’t want to know how often he’s been… not okay. I mean, technically none of them are actually my husband, but—"

"Steve’s your  _husband_?” Bucky interrupted. “ _Steve_?”

Natasha sighed. “Yes. And you have no idea how distressing it is to find that he’s  _dead_ more often than we’ve gotten our acts together. Once, my duplicate had even been the one to kill him. How fucked up is that?”

"Pretty fucked up," Bucky agreed. "They’re, ah, not together in this universe either."

"I figured, from your reaction," she sighed. "That’s fine, as long as he’s okay. Who am I with? I’m always with someone; I’m  _terrible_  when I’m on my own, you have no idea—”

"Oh, I have some idea," Bucky said wryly.

The door opened behind him then, and he all but collapsed with relief at the sound of  _his_ Tony’s voice. “So, J tells me I’m in two places at once. Who wants to fill me in?”

"Okay, this works about seventy percent of the time," Natasha said, "so let’s start with this: protocol four-two-Romeo-squared."

"Tony?" That was Steve. Bucky didn’t turn to look, but he saw Natasha’s eyes widen, and then close briefly before she made herself look back at Tony.

"Uh, wow, I hadn’t thought about that protocol in a while," Tony said. "That one is… multiverse? You’re… me?" Tony took several long strides into the room.

"Tony," Bucky grated, "get out of my shot."

Tony waved a hand. “No shots, sugar britches, do not shoot alternate-universe me.”

Bucky looked at Steve, who just shrugged in acceptance of the new weird. Bucky holstered his pistol, grumbling, and joined Tony in the middle of the shop, where he and Natasha were eyeing each other with eerily similar levels of curiosity.

"She says she’s married to Steve," Bucky said, just to see how they’d react.

Tony raised his eyebrows at his counterpart, then turned to look at Steve. “Something you need to tell me?” he asked, obviously teasing.

Steve rolled his eyes. “Nope. Maybe if you were as hot as her—”

"I would be offended by that," Tony said, "but you might be right. Multiverse-me is _bangin’_.”

"Too right I am," Natasha said with a grin. "But I see you managed to bag a super-soldier anyway. How’d you manage that? James in my world can barely stand to be in the same room with me, even for Steve’s sake."

Bucky rolled his eyes. “It was the cars. By the time he finally let me drive the McLaren, it was all over for me.”

Tony laughed and blew him a kiss, then turned back to Natasha and tapped on her chest.

She didn’t seem unduly disturbed by the familiarity. “RT,” she said. “You?”

Tony shook his head. “Had mine taken out a couple of years ago. Show me?”

Natasha made a shocked face. “Are you asking me to potentially introduce a cross-contamination vector into your universe?”

"Well, duh," Tony said. "C’mon, open ‘er up!"

Natasha grinned and started unbuttoning her shirt. “Yeah, sure.”

"Now we’re talkin’," Bucky said.

"Bucky!" Steve hissed, turning red. "You’re  _married_.”

"According to JARVIS, they’re the same person," Bucky pointed out. He was pretty sure Tony knew he wasn’t serious, and winding Steve up was always fun.

"Sorry, Bucky-bear," Natasha said. "I’m sure your boy here has done  _fascinating_  things to that arm, but you’re not my type.” She pulled her shirt open just wide enough to reveal the softly-glowing circle over her sternum.

"Probably just as well," Bucky said. "If you knew what he’d done to my arm, you wouldn’t ever wanna go home, and your Steve’d probably be sad." He leaned in and kissed Tony’s cheek. "Have fun, babe. Steve an’ I are gonna go back upstairs so we’re out of the blast radius when the explosions start."

"He’s so cute," Tony told his counterpart as Bucky pulled Steve toward the door. "He thinks he can stay in the building and be safe."

"C’mon, Stevie," Bucky muttered as they headed for the stairs. "Let’s go drop in on Thor. I need a drink, after that."


	18. 18-Mar-2015: Protective Steve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Rating:** T
> 
>  **Prompt:** Imagine Steve being protective of Tony because he believes Bucky will hurt Tony (either emotionally or physically), and Tony refuses to believe him. No Steve bashing, just genuinely concerned Steve. -Anonymous
> 
>  **Warnings:** None

Tony slipped past Steve as soon as the door was open, before Steve could block the way. “Come on, Cap, you’ve been hiding your buddy long enough. Time for him to start meeting people, and who better than me?”

"Almost anyone," Steve muttered, but Tony just ignored him. There was no one else in the living room, so Tony headed toward the back of the apartment. "Tony, wait." Steve dodged past Tony and blocked the path to the hallway. "You can’t just barge in! He’s still pretty twitchy. I need to prepare him if he’s going to have visitors, and you’re…"

Tony grinned as Steve struggled for a word. “Abrasive?” he suggested. “Best thing, you know. Handle ‘em with kid gloves and they worry they’re going to break you. If there’s an elephant in the room, you might as well invite it to stay and have a drink. Elephants are pretty cool, really. Did you know they throw [homecoming parties](http://www.elephantvoices.org/multimedia-resources/elephant-calls-database-contexts/209-social-integration/bonding/greeting-ceremony.html) for their friends when one’s been away for a while?”

"What the hell are you talking about, Tony?"

Tony tried to duck under Steve’s arm, but Steve caught him and pushed him back. “Seriously, what’s the worst that could happen?”

"Worst that—" Steve stared at him in frustrated amazement. "He could punch your lights out, for a start."

Tony waved a hand dismissively. “Not that bad, honestly. Better me than one of the others, right?” He grinned up into Steve’s frown. “Tell me you wouldn’t love to see me get punched.”

"What?  _No_ , Tony! I don’t want to see anyone get hurt! That’s the point!”

Tony patted Steve’s arm. It was a little like patting a rock. “That’s why you’re Captain America,” he said fondly. “Come on, get your boyfriend out here. No time like the present.”

"He’s not my boyfr—" Steve broke off as the door at the end of the hall opened. He twisted to look, and Tony leaned to look around him, and spotted a head peering around the cracked door.

"What’s all the commotion?"

Tony took advantage of Steve’s momentary distraction to slip past him and down the hall, hand extended. “You must be Barnes! Good to finally meet you. Anthony Stark, but you can call me— holy shit you’re hot.” He stumbled to a halt as Barnes stepped out of the room and the hall light fell on his face.

Barnes took Tony’s hand. His grip was firm and warm and— did it  _linger_ , just a bit? “Pleased ta meetcha, Mr. Holy Shit You’re Hot,” he said, his lips curving in a smirk that only made him hotter.

"Bucky," Steve protested from behind Tony.

Tony recovered and grinned back. “Not nearly as pleased as you’re going to be.”

” _Tony_.”

Barnes looked at Steve over Tony’s shoulder, smirk still firmly in place. “Anyone who makes you whine like that is okay by my books. You should bring this one around more often, Stevie.”

Tony turned just in time to see Steve throw up his hands in despair. “I give up,” he muttered, turning to stalk back into the living room. “The two of you deserve each other.”


	19. 19-Mar-2015: Cruel Steve/Protective Bucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Rating:** T
> 
>  **Prompt:** Steve is mad at Tony and accidently says something along the lines of "You're nothing like Howard! He would be ashamed!" And then Bucky gets super pissed off and yells at Steve. P.S i super love your blog! -Anonymous
> 
>  **Warnings:** None

Bucky is sitting on the couch in the workshop, reading a sci-fi novel and just keeping Tony company when he hears the door open. He looks up to see Steve come in, and Tony’s shoulders slump, just a bit. Bucky sighs and puts his book aside.

Steve has been in a tizzy for Tony to figure out this doodad they found in the alien wreckage for some reason. Tony’s been getting more and more despondent every time he has to tell Steve he hasn’t got it working yet, and Steve keeps getting more and more frustrated.

Bucky’s going to be needed to bolster Tony’s morale again once Steve leaves. He wishes Steve would take his hints and just fuck off until Tony’s got the thing sorted, but the chances of that happening are pretty slim. He reaches Tony’s side in time to hear, “…so this is definitely where the power source should go, but without power, I’m not sure I can figure out how to repair this part here.”

Steve is outright  _glowering_. “Is that all you’ve been able to figure out?”

“Hey,” Bucky says. “Back off a little. He’s only had the thing for two days.”

Steve ignores him to push into Tony’s space. “This is  _pathetic_.”

“Hang on now, Steve,” Bucky says sharply. “That’s a little out of line, don’t you think?”

Tony hunches further. “I’m doing the best I can,” he says, halfway between petulant and panicked. “It’s  _alien_ , it’s not like anything I’ve—”

Steve folds his arms and snorts derisively. “I thought you were supposed to be a  _genius_. Howard would be disgusted at how stupid you’ve turned—”

Steve doesn’t finish, because the instant Bucky hears Tony’s quick inhale, he hauls off and punches Steve in the face. With his left arm. As hard as he can manage. Steve flies across the room and lands in a crumpled heap against the wall.

“What the—!” Tony jumps to his feet, but Bucky holds him back, eyes on Steve.

“Steve would never say something so pointlessly cruel, I don’t care how damn mad he is,” Bucky hissed.

Slowly, Steve straightens from where he fell, and there: his face is  _flickering_  where Bucky hit it, slowly turning a bright green shade that no human skin could achieve.

“Oh my god,” Tony breathes, or maybe it was “oh thank god.” He stands up straighter as Bucky releases him.

“I knew something was off,” Bucky snaps. He strides forward and grabs the false Steve by the collar. “Time to talk, bozo. Who or what are you, and what have you done with the real Cap?”

Behind him, he hears the whir of Tony’s armor and a loud, metallic  _crunch_  as Tony destroys the alien tech. Whatever it is, it’s obviously better off out of this creature’s hands. The false Steve’s eyes grow round, mouth opening and closing in silent protest.

Bucky shakes him, hard. “Start talking,” he snarls, “or that’ll be you next.”


	20. 21-Mar-2015: Indulgences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Rating:** T
> 
>  **Prompt:** Imagine Bucky finds out that Tony is a huge bodice ripper junkie, and pretty much any time Tony isn't working on building something or playing socialite, he's devouring one of those books. -Anonymous
> 
>  **Warnings:** None

Bucky swung into the workshop, scanning the room until he found Tony curled up on the couch, his nose buried in a paperback. “Hey, Tony, do you have a minute?”

"Mm?" Tony grabbed a piece of paper and stuffed it into the book, and tossed it onto the couch. "Yeah, I’m just waiting for the fabrication unit to finish up. What’s up?"

But Bucky paused, his gaze captured by the lurid cover of Tony’s book. It featured a mostly-naked man whose airbrushed muscles might have rivaled Thor’s, clutching a woman whose breasts were nearly the size of her  _head_  but whose waist was, apparently, small enough to be spanned by only one of the man’s hands.

Tony followed his gaze and huffed out a laugh. “The covers are really ridiculous, right?”

"Are you… are you reading trashy romance novels?" Bucky asked incredulously.

"Yep," Tony said, without a trace of shame. "Pepper loans them to me when she’s done. I really like this author, actually."

Bucky blinked a few times. “I was not expecting that.”

"You want it when I’m done?"

"No!"

Tony shrugged. “Your loss.”

***

Bucky knocked once and pushed into Steve’s apartment. “Hey, Stevie, do you—  _Oh shit!_ Sorry, sorry, I’ll—”

Steve looked up in surprise. “Oh, hey, Buck! Come on in!”

Bucky froze.  _Come on in_  was not the response he’d expected after his first glimpse of Thor leaned back into the couch in relaxed repose and Steve kneeling by Thor’s feet. “Are you sure I’m not… interrupting anything?”

"You’re fine," Steve said. "You can even join in, if you want."

"By all means!" Thor agreed. "The more the merrier!" He sat up and turned to beam at Bucky, and Bucky could only stare back: Thor’s long hair had been pulled back into a sloppy bun, and his face was covered with some sort of… concoction.

"What the hell?"

Steve grinned and straightened, screwing the cap back onto a bottle of glittery silver nail polish. “Spa day! We trade facials and pedicures, then have a couple’a beers while we watch the game and do manicures. The shield and the hammer make for pretty bad calluses if we don’t stay on top of it. You’re welcome to stick around. Thor found instructions online for this really neat stained-glass effect he wants to try.”

"Uh." Bucky stared at his friends and shook his head. "Isn’t that a little… y’know. Girly?" He winced instinctively and scanned the vicinity for Natasha.

"Girly, schmirly," Steve snorted. "It’s fun. And it feels nice. You joining us or not?"

Bucky considered. “Maybe… maybe just the game and beers,” he said. “If that’s okay.”

"Fine with me. You can open the bottles for us so we don’t smudge up our nails."

***

Bucky followed his nose into the kitchen. “Oh, hey, cookies!” Still on the cooling rack, even. They smelled  _amazing_. He reached—

—and staggered back as Natasha appeared between him and the counter. “Mine,” she snarled. “Go get your own.”

Bucky protested, “C’mon, Tash, there’s gotta be at least three dozen there!”

He’d thought it wasn’t possible for Natasha to look any scarier than she had while she’d been helping him and Steve hunt down Hydra bases. He’d thought wrong.

"These are mine," she said again, in her softest, most dangerous voice.

” _All_  of ‘em?”

"All. Of. Them."

"What’s the— Whoa, hey, buddy," came Clint’s voice, and Bucky looked around to see Clint emerging from the pantry carrying a storage bin. He was wearing an apron that hadn’t done much to mitigate his head-to-toe dusting of flour, the chocolate smear on one cheek, or what looked like some sort of jelly on his forehead. "Far be it from me to interfere in another man’s death wish," Clint said, wrapping an arm around Bucky’s shoulders and drawing him away from the counter and further into the kitchen, "but those are, in fact, Nat’s cookies."

"I just want one," Bucky muttered.

"No, really. Don’t touch her cookies," Clint advised. "Even I don’t get any, and I  _make_  the damn things. But good news! I found more baking chocolate  _and_  some cake flour, so we can make you your own batch of something. What’s your favorite?”

"You bake?"

"It’s soothing. Shut up and come pick out a cookie."

***

Bruce listened patiently until Bucky finally wound down with, “Just if you have something that could… help. Without making me all groggy?”

Bruce nodded thoughtfully, scratching at his face. “We should be able to find something that works for you. A base of chamomile, of course, but I’ve got a few other things that… Well, come on in.” He opened the door a little wider, gesturing Bucky in.

Bucky hadn’t been in Bruce’s apartment before; Bruce welcomed visitors to his lab but was otherwise fairly private, preferring to socialize in the common areas. Bucky followed him to the little half-kitchen the apartments all had. Bruce had an electric kettle on the counter, and several tea canisters lined up. Bucky looked at them curiously, but Bruce opened a cupboard instead.

"Those are black and green tea, which I’d be glad to share, but they’ve got caffeine, so it’s not going to help your sleeping problem," Bruce explained. "I’m going to make you an herbal blend." He began pulling sealed containers out of his cupboard. "Give me a few minutes, here."

"Sure thing," Bucky agreed, looking around.

There was a little shelf over the sink that was crowded with small glass figures. Dragons, he realized as he drew closer, mostly of the snakey-looking Chinese variety. “These are neat,” he said, carefully tucking his hands behind his back so he wouldn’t accidentally break them.

Bruce looked over and laughed softly. “Oh, those. I have a bit of a collection. There’s more in the sitting room, if you want to look.”

Curiously, Bucky went out into Bruce’s sitting room, and stopped dead just past the threshold. Bruce had made it sound like there was another shelf or two; this room was  _lined_ with shelves of glass figures.

And not just dragons. There were cats and snakes and dolphins and unicorns and every other animal under the sun, real or imagined. Half of one wall was given over to fairy-tale scenes — Rapunzel’s hair was so delicately spun it nearly looked real; Snow White’s apple was barely bigger than a grape seed. There was another area filled with glass replicas of real buildings — the Eiffel Tower looked especially intricate with its scaffolding rendered in glass, but the colors of St. Basil’s Cathedral were breathtaking.

When he’d completed the circuit of the room, he found Bruce standing in the doorway, watching with a tentative smile and a tea tin in one hand. “It’s a little odd, I know,” Bruce said.

"It’s fantastic," Bucky returned. He imagined the way it must look when the sun came through the windows in the morning, and smiled. "Does, the uh, the Other Guy like them, too?"

He’d meant it as a joke, but Bruce grinned and nodded. “He even has a favorite.” He came into the room, moving with purpose and reaching up onto one high shelf for—

A three-inch-tall Hulk of bottle-green glass, palms held together to cradle — Bucky leaned closer in fascination — a ladybug-sized glass unicorn.

***

It was Sam’s turn to pick the movie for movie night. As usual on Sam’s nights, Clint had fallen asleep twenty minutes in, and Natasha followed another fifteen minutes later, curled against Clint’s side. Steve was still watching politely, though with a constant frown of confusion that probably matched Bucky’s own. Thor seemed likewise perplexed, despite having Allspeak, which stifled Bucky’s hope that it was just badly-translated subtitles causing his own confusion.

On the other hand, Tony, his legs tangled with Bucky’s, was cheerily munching popcorn and nodding along with the music, and Bruce seemed to be following well enough. Sam was watching raptly, tears streaming down his face.

Bucky debated for a moment, then leaned over to poke Sam on the arm. “Sam. What the hell just happened?”

Without looking away from the screen, Sam said, “He just saved her from the fire.”

"I got that, but you’d think she’d be, I dunno, happier?" Bucky suggested.

"She’s sad ‘cause now she has to keep her promise and marry the other guy," Sam said. "Shut up and watch, man. I can’t always explain the whole thing to you."

"You said you’d seen this ten times already."

"And I was hoping to make it eleven, but I don’t know if it counts if I have to keep explaining everything to your ass."

Bucky gave up and slumped back against Tony. “My ass could probably make a better movie,” he grumbled.

Tony laughed and fed him a bit of popcorn. “So that’s a ‘no’ for Bollywood for you, then, is it?”

"How come  _you_  aren’t bothered by the fact that this plot makes no sense?” Bucky demanded.

"Are you kidding?" Tony asked. "I have the novel!"

Bucky sighed. “Of course you do.”

***

Bucky threw in his cards. “I’m all out,” he said. “Pretty sure both Steve and Clint are cheating, and Tony is counting cards.”

None of them protested the slander. Natasha raised a hand and said, “I’m counting cards, too.”

"You are all the worst poker players  _ever_ ,” Bucky grumbled.

"In that we have all beaten you at it?" Steve said, batting his eyelashes with false innocence.

"In that you all suck," Bucky corrected loftily. "I’m gonna go take a bath."

Tony groaned. “See you next week, then,” he said mournfully.

It had started simply, with shampoo that smelled like apples. And then there was body wash scented with coconut oil. Then Bucky had wandered unsuspectingly into a Lush store and his entire world had changed. Now he had bath bombs that fizzed and glittered, and scented cleansers and conditioners and moisturizers for every part of him. It was true that his bathing ritual took a little longer than it used to, but Bucky loved spoiling himself with the fun, sweet-smelling products, and he (and Tony!) liked the way it made his skin feel.

"Dummy," Bucky said fondly. He leaned over and kissed the top of Tony’s head. "No more’n a couple hours, tops." He leaned in closer and whispered, "Come up after the game and help me put on my lotion, and I’ll let you read me the racy bits from your new book."

"And here I thought  _I_  was the genius.”

They worked hard to keep the world safe, after all; who could blame them for enjoying their harmless indulgences?


	21. 25-Mar-2015: Nightmares and Cuddles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Rating:** T
> 
> **Prompt:**  
>  \- imagine Tony showing up to a movie night in sweat pants and a large over sized sweater and all Bucky can think of is how cuddly Tony looks. so Bucky basically manhandles Tony so the smaller man is sitting in his lap and cuddles him. Tony's confused but not complaining, he likes the cuddling (and of course likes Bucky) -Anonymous  
> \- Tony has a nightmare and gets woken up by the Avengers call thingy so Bucky doesnt get the chance to ask him about it, and then Tony does something really risky and hurts himself. -Anonymous
> 
> **Warnings:** None

When Tony has a nightmare, he doesn’t flail in panic, or shout, or even whimper. His outward reactions are barely noticeable, even for someone awake and watching: faster breathing, a cold sweat, the occasional twitch.

Luckily, Bucky sleeps on a hair trigger. Always has, ever since he’d trained himself to wake at the first sign of Steve’s breath beginning to wheeze or his teeth starting to chatter. It had been a useful skill for the Winter Soldier, too, and so his owners had encouraged it.

So usually, as soon as Tony’s heart rate speeds up, as soon as he starts twitching, Bucky snaps awake and pulls Tony out of it, cradles him close and encourages him to tell Bucky about the dream — sometimes painful, but a proven method of preventing it from coming back for the rest of the night.

Once in a while, though, a nightmare slips through. Tony’s sleeping habits are anything but regular, and they’re not always in bed at the same time. Or they will end up on far sides of Tony’s enormous bed (because spooning is great but sometimes you just need to _stretch out_ ) and Bucky isn’t close enough to detect the signs. When that happens, Tony eventually wakes with a start or a gasp, and spends the next day jittery and out of sorts.

He never blames Bucky for not being there, of course — he’s grateful for the ones that are prevented, but it’s not Bucky’s job to guard his sleep, after all.

Even if sometimes Bucky feels that it is.

He isn’t sure how long this one has been going on — longer than usual, to judge from how damp the pillow is under Tony’s head. “Tony? Babe, wake up.” Bucky puts his hand on Tony’s arm — the metal one, the one that can’t be mistaken in the dream for someone with unkind intentions. “Come on, snap out of it,” Bucky pleads.

Bucky shakes Tony a little, and then a little more, and finally Tony jerks awake, eyes too wide in the dim light that bleeds through the windows, breathing harsh and loud in the quiet. He looks around wildly, focusing first on JARVIS’ soothing projection of their location, date, and time; and then on Bucky’s face.

"Oh, thank god," Tony breathes, and flops back onto the bed.

Bucky scoots closer, pressing his body against Tony’s, stroking metal fingers down the side of Tony’s face. “Tell me about it?” he asks, as he always does.

Tony closes his eyes, then opens them again immediately, as if he can’t stand to stop watching Bucky for long. Bucky can feel the minute tremors in Tony’s body, after-effects of the adrenaline in his system. “It was awful,” he says. “There was this—”

What there was, Bucky never does find out, because the air is split by the sound of an alarm, and they are both out of the bed instantly, reaching for their weapons and armor even before the lights come up.

***

Tony’s still jittery from the nightmare, Bucky can tell. It’s not noticeable to the others — at least, no one’s said anything, and Bucky’s certain Steve would have said something if he’d noticed that Tony’s flying was a little erratic, or that Tony’s firing a split-second slower than usual.

Bucky can tell, but he’s waffling on whether he should mention it. Tony’s not badly affected, and this fight isn’t dire, but the faster they get these guys down, the fewer civilians will be hurt.

And just at the moment that he makes that decision is, of course, when Tony says, “Fuck it,” right over the open comms channel, and dives straight at the center of the fracas.  _Now_ Steve is yelling for Tony to fall back, but of course Tony isn’t listening.

If Tony survives this, Bucky is going to kill him.

***

Tony’s damage tally is thus: A broken arm, a sprained ankle, and about twenty stitches. Bucky stands at Tony’s bedside the entire time the medical team is patching him up and reads him the riot act. As soon as they’re alone in the room again, though, Bucky pulls him into a fiercely relieved hug.

Tony’s been through this before, on both sides, so he just hugs Bucky back. The pain meds are making him a bit loopy, though, so as soon as they get back to the Tower, he goes straight back to bed even though it’s midafternoon now.

Bucky makes JARVIS promise to keep an eye on Tony, and then does the things he always does after a battle: he takes a long, hot shower, and then he thoroughly cleans his weapons and restocks his ammo belt. He checks his phone when it pings, and when it turns out to be Steve reminding him to fill out his action report, he ignores it. He goes to the kitchen and eats about two days’ worth of food.

He checks his phone when it pings again, and when it turns out to be Hill reminding him to fill out his action report, he grumbles and goes to fill out his action report, because he has learned he cannot get around Hill with a witty joke and a charming smile.

Eventually, Bucky wanders into the common room, where Clint is already flicking through TV channels because he writes action reports that are so useless that they’re practically art, and Hill has stopped asking him for them.

Bucky flops down onto his usual spot and he and Clint bicker amiably about what to watch until Natasha comes in and takes the remote away from both of them.

By the time night is falling, most of the team has gathered. Steve and Natasha and Sam are trying to pick a movie to watch, and Clint and Bruce are in the kitchen gathering drinks and giving some takeout place simultaneously the best and the worst night they’ve had in months by ordering more than half the menu. Eventually a movie is chosen and the food arrives and everyone settles in. The space beside Bucky where Tony usually sits feels cold, and then suddenly it doesn’t, because Tony has emerged and joined them.

Bucky looks over at him, and Tony is already looking back, and they both grin a little wider at that. In deference to his injuries and bandages, Tony is wearing loose sweatpants and a sweater so baggy and oversized he might have stolen it from Thor’s closet. He looks adorable, like a kid playing dress-up, and Bucky can’t resist grabbing him and pulling him close, right up onto Bucky’s lap.

"Whoa, hey!" Tony says, laughing. "What is this? Is this what we’re doing now?"

There’s a chorus of hissing “Shhhh!” from the others, which gives Bucky an excuse to just shrug in answer. They don’t usually cuddle like this in front of the others, but Tony is warm and alive (and adorable) and Bucky wants to keep him close.

Tony seems okay with it. He leans forward to grab a takeout container off the table, then realizes he can’t hold the container and feed himself at the same time with a broken arm. He makes sad puppy eyes at Bucky until Bucky gives in and holds the container for him.

Eventually, Tony puts it back on the table, then leans back against Bucky’s chest. Bucky wraps his arms carefully around Tony’s waist and tucks his face against the nape of Tony’s neck so he can smell Tony’s hair.

"Feeling better?" he whispers after a while.

Tony nods. “Of course, I slept for four hours in the middle of the afternoon, so I’m not going to be able to sleep tonight,” he whispers back.

Bucky grins and nips at the back of Tony’s neck. “I’m sure we’ll be able to think of some way to stay occupied.”


	22. 28-Mar-2015: Sequel to 27-Feb-2015: First Introduction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Rating:** T
> 
> **Prompt:** I would absolutely love to see what happens after this: [imaginetonyandbucky. tumblr. com/post/112219800321/imagine-that-first-moment-after-bucky-realizes](http://imaginetonyandbucky.tumblr.com/post/112219800321/imagine-that-first-moment-after-bucky-realizes) -Anonymous
> 
> **Warnings:** None

Tony had a scalp wound — why was it always scalp wounds, messy things that they were? — and he thought that being pistol-whipped in the face had resulted in a loose tooth, if it hadn’t been knocked out entirely. And there were an assortment of bruises and cuts and minor burns from the explosion that he’d engineered to break through the wall of his cell.

He felt like shit. Not that he could admit as much in front of Steve and Natasha, who routinely walked away from bases full of bad guys with not to much as a hair out of place. Not to mention  _Bucky fucking Barnes_ , of all people. Who was apparently part of the team now, and either that was new or the Ten Rings’d had him longer than he thought.

So Tony went into the bathroom and locked the door and made a lot of faces into the mirror as he peeled his scorched shirt off and out of the burn on his side, and then mostly managed to swallow the whimper when he took a swig of mouthwash and swished it gingerly around his mouth. When he spat it into the sink, it came out more pink than blue, but Tony couldn’t see any more blood in his teeth, which was a good sign.

Then he steeled his expression — he was an Avenger, dammit, and he was  _not_  going to whine like a baby when Steve stitched his scalp back together — and went back out to the passenger compartment.

Where he found Bucky fucking Barnes whining like a baby while Steve cleaned a cut on his neck.

"Ow, ow,  _ow_ , what the  _fuck_  are you doing, peeling the edges back to clean underneath?”

"Yeah, Buck, that’s exactly it," Steve said drily, dabbing gingerly at the cut with a cottonball. "I figured, hey, the guy’s finally come in out of the cold; this would be an excellent time to deliberately torture him. When I’m done with this, I figure I’ll break out some bamboo to stick under your nails."

"Asshole," Bucky grumbled, trying futilely to squirm away from Steve’s ministrations and push him away. " _Ow_.”

A sudden unexpected giggle escaped Tony’s throat, and both super-soldiers looked up.

Steve looked concerned and focused, as he always did after a battle, his eyes darting from injury to injury, mentally triaging and ranking them in severity.

Bucky was grinning, though, and his eyes were lingering on Tony’s exposed shoulders and stomach, far from the worst of Tony’s wounds, or even the scar left where the arc reactor used to sit, which drew most eyes that weren’t already familiar with the sight. “Hello there, dark and dangerous,” Bucky purred.

"Are you kidding me?" Steve complained, even as his lips curved into a fond smile. "I am sitting  _right here_.”

"Feel free to find another place to sit," Bucky said without looking around. He stood up and gestured, offering Tony his vacated seat by the medkit. "You look like the kind of man who’d enjoy having an assassin stitch up his wounds."

Steve put his face in his hands with a groan. “Bucky. Assassination and suture are not sexy.”

"Anything is sexy if you try hard enough, Stevie," Bucky said, smirking and still not taking his eyes off Tony. "Whaddya say, hot stuff?"

Tony dropped into the still-warm chair. “As it happens, getting put back together by an assassin or two is pretty much old hat for me these days. If you want novelty points, you’re going to have to try a little…” He let his gaze move slowly down over Bucky’s body for a moment before looking back up into Bucky’s surprisingly warm grey eyes and grinning. “… _harder_.”


	23. 31-Mar-2015: Bedtime Skype

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Rating:** T
> 
> **Prompt:** Imagine Tony's gotten use to having Bucky with him when he sleeps. So when Tony has to go on a business trip, he and Bucky Skype until he falls asleep. -Anonymous
> 
> **Warnings:** None

"Okay, babe, you’re looking pretty sleepy, and I know you have to be up in" —Bucky’s eyes flicked up to the top of the screen, probably checking the clock— "five hours for that meeting. Why don’t you hang up now?"

Tony dragged his eyes wider to see Bucky leaning on his hand, the sun shining brightly from behind him, half the world away. “Nnn. You hang up first,” Tony said.

"Oh, Christ, this again?" Bucky’s fond smile belied his exasperated tone.

Tony pouted. “I’m stuck in the ass end of nowhere—”

"Tokyo is  _hardly_  the ass end of anywhere—”

"—and I miss you. I can’t sleep without you beside me."

Bucky rolled his eyes, but the hand he wasn’t leaning on reached up to touch the screen. “You’re such a sap, Tony.”

"You love me for it," Tony said.

"I will love you a lot less if you sleepwalk through your presentation tomorrow and piss Pepper off so bad that she fires your cute ass," Bucky threatened.

Tony grinned. “No you won’t.”

Bucky sagged, sighing. “No, I won’t. Jerk. Will you close your eyes if I tell you a story?”

Tony considered it, then nodded. “Okay.”

Bucky waited a moment, then, “Tony. Close your eyes.”

"Start talking first," Tony bargained.

"God, you are such a  _child_  when you’re sleepy. Fine. Once upon a time… Your eyes are still open, Tony.”

"You  _just_  started!”

"Once. Upon. A. Time…"

Tony grinned and blew Bucky a kiss, then closed his eyes.

"…there was a handsome prince named James."

"How come I don’t get to be the handsome prince?" Tony complained, though he obediently kept his eyes closed.

"Because I’m telling the story. Be quiet, Tony." Bucky paused another moment to make sure Tony was going to stay quiet, then continued. "Prince James was locked away in an icy tower…"

He hadn’t even finished the prince’s escape from the tower when he realized Tony had relaxed and his breathing had gone slow and even, having finally fallen asleep.

If Bucky stayed at the computer for another fifteen minutes to finish telling the story and watch Tony sleep, no one but JARVIS knew about it, and unlike Bucky, JARVIS wasn’t telling any tales.


	24. 1-Apr-2015: Crossbones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Rating:** T
> 
> **Prompt:** Tony is kidnapped (again!) by Crossbones in an attempt to recapture the asset for HYDRA. Tony is furious that Brock thinks he's useless without the armor, and doesn't wait around to be saved. It ends in happy tears for all (except Rumlow - BUcky makes sure of that) involved. -Anonymous
> 
> **Warnings:** None

Just once, just  _once_ , it would be nice to wake up after a kidnapping to have a head that wasn’t pounding like he’d been on a three day bender of mixed tequila and vodka.

"Rise and shine, Stark," grated a deep voice. "I know you’re awake in there."

Tony pried one eye open to see a big guy looming over him. He was wearing a mask, an unimaginative thing made out to look sort of like a skull. “Are you kidding me?” he groaned. “I am sleeping with the scariest ghost story the intelligence world has ever known; you are not going to spook me with a dimestore mask, Jumbo.” Tony rolled his eyes and closed them again. “Speaking of which, grabbing me was a pretty dumb move — I mean, all your moves have been pretty dumb so far, but picking me for your target was right at the top of the list. Bucky will be coming for me, you know.”

"You think I don’t know that?" the big guy chuckled. "You’re nothing but bait in the trap, Stark. Do you know how grateful Hydra will be when I bring the Winter Soldier back into the fold? And don’t get any funny ideas. You won’t be able to get any signals through these walls and we confiscated all the gadgets you had in your pockets. You just sit tight until your little boy toy shows up, and if you don’t make any trouble, we  _might_  let you go after we’ve got him back in custody.”

Tony ignored that — it wasn’t even a credible lie — to do a quick scan of the cell: thin mattress on a spring-shot cot, prison-style sink and toilet, two different surveillance cameras mounted in the ceiling, and a heavy steel door with a speaker grille.

As he turned to leave, the guy cow-kicked the chair Tony was tied to, knocking it over and making his head hurt  _a lot worse_ , and now… Well, now Tony was just pissed.

***

Bucky jumped out of the helicopter while it was still a good twenty feet off the ground, Steve close on his heels, leaving Clint and Tasha to land the thing and cover them. Bucky strode across the open ground between the clear landing area and the small cement building, not breaking stride even when he saw it was Tony on his feet and some other guy laying on his side in the dirt. “Tony,” he bellowed over the noise of the helicopter’s blades, “tell me you know me.”

Tony cocked his head in apparent confusion and Bucky’s stomach nearly dropped through the ground, but then Tony shouted back, “Why the hell wouldn’t I know you? You’re supposed to be  _happy_  when you successfully rescue your boyfriend, you dummy!”

Bucky nearly sagged with relief, but then broke into a run and caught Tony up in a rib-creaking hug. “Tasha says radio waves in the area are swamped with a signature that looks like the one the mindwipe,” he said into Tony’s ear, fighting through the lump in his throat. “Fuck, I was so scared.”

"Hey, babe, it’s okay, I’m fine, give or take a few bruises. This asshole didn’t even— Wait. The mindwipe? They had it  _here_? Is  _that_  what I cannibalized to make that static gun? The fucking  _mindwipe_  machine?” Tony burst into laughter and leaned back in Bucky’s embrace to toe his masked prisoner none-too-gently in the ribs. “No wonder you fell apart so fast. I thought I’d miscalibrated the damn thing!” He giggled some more until Bucky shut him up with a kiss.

Steve, in the meantime, checked the prisoner’s bonds and then ripped the mask off his. “Oh,  _you_.”

Bucky looked over at the sound of disgust in Steve’s voice, and felt his own innards turn to ice.  _Rumlow_.

"You were the prize," Tony told Bucky. "I was just the bait. You know. Helpless, fragile, maiden-in-distress that I am." He pretended to swoon, and Bucky laughed and caught him as he fell over in a “faint”.

"Poor little me," Tony sighed, hamming ridiculously. "Without my armor, I can barely even lift my feet to walk. You might have to carry me back to the helicopter."

"Whatever you say, dollface," Bucky said, scooping Tony up into his arms and grinning at Tony’s shout of laughter. "C’mon, let’s get you settled so I can have a look at those bruises. Steve can drag this idiot along." He kicked Rumlow in the stomach as he turned back toward the helicopter. "Oops, I slipped."


	25. 9-Apr-2015: Tony!Cap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Rating:** T
> 
>  **Prompt:** Imagine Steve never got unfrozen and Howard made Tony into the new Captain America. When Bucky breaks his programming and goes looking for his best friend, he finds Tony instead. -Anonymous
> 
>  **Warnings:** None

Tony waited until the others had left before he pushed back the hood of the cowl. They all knew who he really was, of course, but he’d lived his whole life in that particular shadow, and old habits died hard. He scrubbed his fingers through his hair with a sigh for the cool air, and headed for his bedroom.

He opened the door and had the shield up and ready even before he’d fully absorbed the sight of a man standing in the center of the room.

The man raised his hands quickly to show them empty and harmless. Was one of them  _metal_? “Steve,” the man said in a dark, raspy voice. “Stevie, it’s Bucky.”

“Who the hell is Bucky?” he asked, before lessons he hadn’t needed to recall in decades came crashing back. He kept the shield up. “Who the fuck are  _you_?” he demanded more sternly. “Bucky Barnes died seventy years ago. JARVIS, hit the lights and get me some profiles. See about a crossmatch against the national registry while you’re at it.”

The man’s hands lowered slowly as the lights came up, his face twisting into a frown of confusion. He really did look startlingly like the photos Tony had seen of Captain America’s right-hand man, once you accounted for the long, lanky hair. “You’re… you’re not Steve.”

“Buddy, you’re the one who broke into my house,” Tony pointed out, “and I’m the one in the spangly outfit, so I’m pretty sure it’s not  _my_  identity that we need to be worrying about right now. Start talking, or I’m having JARVIS notify the police.”

“No, no don’t,” the man said quickly, lifting his hands again, doing his best to seem nonthreatening. “I don’t want to hurt anyone. I know it sounds crazy, but I swear I’m who I… I was just looking for Steve and I– Are you a Stark? The building says Stark Tower, and you look kinda like a guy I knew named Stark. Howard Stark. Any chance you know him?”

“Howard Stark’s been dead for more than twenty years,” Tony said, swallowing with long practice the quiet muddle of grief and anger that always came with thoughts of his father.

The man stared. “They took more than I thought, I guess” he said, and suddenly went pale, swaying on his feet.

Almost against his better judgment, Tony dropped the shield and caught him, almost staggering himself at the unexpected weight. “Let’s just sit down for a minute, shall we?”

The man let Tony help him to a chair, but, “Why are you carrying Steve’s shield?” he challenged.

“Well. Someone has to,” Tony said. He eyed those so-familiar features for a moment, then decided to take a chance. If the guy turned out to be a crackpot, no one but the conspiracy theorists would listen anyway. “Steve’s still locked in a cryochamber at SHIELD HQ,” he explained, watching the man’s face for a reaction. “They haven’t figured out yet how to thaw him without causing possibly permanent tissue damage.” Tony smirked humorlessly. “Once they do, I’ll be out of a job, I guess, and probably thrown to the wolves as an imposter and a scapegoat.”

The man frowned. “Steve would never let that happen.” He tipped up his chin suddenly, eyes flashing. “And neither will I.”

Tony almost laughed at such naive idealism, but something in the set of the man’s jaw stopped him. “Tell you what,” he said. “Back it up and tell me everything, and if you convince me, we’ll see about breaking into SHIELD’s most secure facility so you can get a peek at their most famous popcicle. Deal?”

The man grinned brightly, then, and the resemblance to James Barnes was no longer even remotely theoretical. Bucky held out his flesh hand for Tony to take. “Deal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See another great take on this prompt at [Accept No Substitute (unless the original is still frozen)](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7597810) by [InTheShadows](http://archiveofourown.org/users/InTheShadows/pseuds/InTheShadows)!


	26. 14-Apr-2015: Arc Reactor Trouble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Rating:** T
> 
> **Prompt:** imagine Tony having good days and bad days with the reactor. on the good days it's just a mild irritation, maybe the skin around the reactor inflamed and a throbbing pain that tony can ignore. on the bad days he can't catch a good breath, his chest is in intense pain and the chance of him getting pneumonia is high. one day it gets really really bad and after Jarvis sounds an alarm Bucky, followed closely by the others, races into the lab to find Tony collapsed on the ground hardly breathing. -Anonymous
> 
> **Warnings:** None

It’s not like he’d kept it a  _secret_  or anything. Anyone who’d heard the tale of the emergency surgery that had necessitated the arc reactor in the first place, or who had seen the x-rays, would come to the conclusion that it wasn’t terribly comfortable with only a moment’s thought. Anyone who’d seen the thing sitting in the center of Tony’s chest would find his mild germophobia more than understandable.

And how would you bring that up, anyway? “By the way, I’m in near-constant pain and sometimes my lungs don’t work quite right because there’s a huge hunk of metal pressing on them, but hey, I am still totally on board with fighting bad guys and getting the shit kicked out of me on a regular basis, don’t even worry about it!”

Yeah, no.

So Tony didn’t talk about it. And  _none_  of the Avengers were terribly eager to dwell on each other’s scars – physical or mental – so they didn’t bring it up, which was fine, because if they were going to talk about his quality of life with the arc reactor, then they’d also have to talk about the fact that Clint showed up every couple of weeks with fresh injuries that hadn’t been sustained in any Avengers-related battles, or that Steve rarely slept more than two hours at a time, or the way Natasha’s hands shook after every PR event. Which: no. None of them were prepared to deal with any of that.

So Tony smiled for the cameras and did the superhero thing and when it was a bad day, he shut himself in the workshop and tried to drown out the way his chest ached with each breath and heartbeat with music so loud he could feel the bass in his bones. He was fine, or at least as fine as he was ever going to be, and that was going to have to be fine enough.

And it was, right up until he found himself slowly rousing back to consciousness, his head cradled in someone’s lap, a hand gently stroking his hair. That part was kind of nice, actually, even if it was almost overshadowed by the way his lungs were apparently on fire and it felt like he was having to drag each breath in through a coffee stirrer straw.

“–nk he’s waking up a little. Tony? Tony, can you hear me?”

Was that  _Bucky_?

Tony tried to answer, but the darkness still had its hooks in him. He couldn’t seem to move, even to open his eyes.

“Here, I found the inhaler they gave me when I had my lung punctured that one time, it might help with the breathing.” And that was Clint, voice getting louder as he came nearer.

Tony managed to get his eyes open, and saw Steve and Natasha kneeling on either side of him, with – he’d been right – Bucky at his head. Christ, were they  _all_  here? “The hell?” he managed to gasp.

“You passed out and JARVIS issued a general alert,” Steve said. He was frowning down at Tony’s chest. “That looks bad, Tony; why didn’t you say something?”

Tony followed Steve’s gaze, but it looked pretty normal, really. Except for his shirt hanging from his arms in tatters. What the hell had happened to his shirt?

Panicking super-soldiers, apparently.

Tony tried to sit up, but Bucky put a hand on his chest and put a stop to that. Unfair: Bucky wasn’t even  _pushing_ , just resting that metal hand on him. (It felt kind of nice, though, the cool metal against his inflamed skin.) “Just rest a minute,” Bucky said. “And answer the question.”

Question? Oh, right. “Nothing to say, Cap,” Tony rasped. “All status quo here. More or less.”

Steve’s face morphed into an expression of determination. Tony inwardly groaned. “Passing out in the middle of your workshop is status quo?” Steve challenged.

“I said more or less,” Tony defended. “Maybe a little less than more today. Look, what was I going to say? No offense, but what exactly were any of you going to bring to the table of ‘fist-sized hunk of metal pushing on my lungs’?”

“Maybe not much,” Bucky conceded, “but I can sure as hell shed some light on the 'convincing your body not to reject the metal implant’ front.”

Tony looked up in surprise, and Bucky grinned down at him. “You know how the scar tissue around my arm is all white and flat, and not, you know, red and scary?”

“Um,” Tony said intelligently.

Steve snorted. “You got this, Buck?”

“I got this,” Bucky confirmed. “I’m going to put Mr. Stoic here to bed, and then I’m going to go get my old file and have a nice long chat with Bruce.”


	27. 19-Apr-2015: Single Dad Bucky / Kids' TV Show Host Tony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Rating:** G
> 
>  **Prompt:** ok but single dad!bucky and tony hosts a bill nye-esque science show. -Anonymous
> 
>  **Warnings:** None

Kids’ TV is  _so bad_. Bucky can remember cartoons from when he was a kid, and he’s  _really positive_  it used to be better until he decides to give his little angel an education and looks some of them up on YouTube and holy christ they’re even worse. (There’s a moment of black humor where he considers the possibility that the shit TV and mind-numbing books are the whole sum of the reason Becca’s mom left, but he would never in  _a million years_  say such a thing out loud.)

Out loud, Bucky resigns himself to pretending to be enthusiastic about the creepy-ass puppets and the even weirder cartoons and to sitting at the computer with Becca in his lap afterward to look up information about whatever Actual Real Life Thing had been featured. (Actually, that part’s not so bad. If only Bucky didn’t have to, you know,  _watch the shows_  to find out what the topic of the day was.)

Becca’s about six when she stumbles into the science show  _Stark Naked Facts_ , on a recommendation from a friend at school. The name of the show is, of course, part of its appeal, in a playground-giggly sort of way that Bucky’s long since learned to just roll his eyes at, but  _just in case_ , he keeps his thumb on the remote for the entire first episode they watch together.

And it’s… not bad. In fact, it’s actually really good.

The set design is obviously built to appeal to kids with its bright red and gold color scheme and funky angles, but it’s not eye-searing or babyish. The science is all introduced via real-world situations that are relatable for kids Becca’s age and seems to address kids of all genders and races and cultures, which is a nice change of pace. The experiments look dangerous and fun and cool, and the show seems to touch on a pretty wide variety of fields to keep little interests riveted, and drops in some slightly dated pop culture references to keep parents amused. Best of all, it doesn’t talk down to the kids at all – in fact, at one point the host, Tony, pauses in the middle of a ramble that  _Bucky_  was having trouble following, looks right at the camera, and says, “Whoops, did I get a little overcomplicated there? Don’t worry, everything’s explained in more detail on the show’s website!”

Becca’s an immediate fan. What’s more, so is Bucky.

It doesn’t hurt in the slightest that Tony is  _smoking hot_. Bucky keeps that observation to himself. He can remember his oldest sister’s crush on one of the Wiggles, when her eldest had been little, and does  _not_  need to give her any excuse to throw his mockery back into his face. But if he re-watches a few of his favorite episodes after Becca’s long since tucked into bed for the night, well, that’s no one’s business but his own, right?

 _Stark Naked Facts_  becomes a fixture in the Barnes house, and it’s not until six months later when Bucky catches himself talking to Tony’s slightly manic grin on Becca’s lunchbox as he spreads peanut butter on her sandwich that he even thinks to question how far down the rabbit hole they’ve gone. Hey, Bucky is a single dad; he’ll take his social interaction where he can get it.

So when Natasha swings into his cubicle at work and says, “Hey, Barnes, those tickets you were trying to get for that show, what was it?  _Stark Naked On the Road_?” she immediately has Bucky’s full attention. Because of  _course_  he and Becca had been hoping to go to that show when they’d found out it was coming to their town, and of  _course_  it had sold out pretty much instantly. Becca had moped around the house for three days after Bucky had broken the news, and he hadn’t been able to cheer her up much, because quite frankly he’d been feeling nearly as cranky himself.

But Natasha… Natasha has a way of getting her hands on things. No one’s quite sure how, and no one quite dares ask. She’s been known to ask for some crazy favors in return for her talents, but at this point, Bucky would be willing to sell his left arm for those tickets. “Natasha, don’t tease,” he begs.

She smiles, slow and predatory, and holds up an envelope between two perfectly-manicured fingers.

Bucky’s pretty sure she could kill him with just those two fingers. “What’ll it cost me?” he sighs, already knowing that whatever it is, he’s going to pay it.

Natasha regards him for a long moment, measuring, and Bucky tries really hard not to let her see that he’s starting to break out into a sweat, when finally she says, “Set me up for drinks and dinner with your buddy Steve over in Graphics.”

Bucky nearly chokes, because Steve has done nothing for weeks but wax poetic about Natasha when they go out together after work for drinks. He’s so relentless about it that Bucky’s been practically contemplating throwing himself off the train to get away. There would literally be  _nothing easier_  than to set Steve and Natasha up on a date.  _Nothing_. Bucky would even pay for it himself, if only to shut Steve up, never mind the tickets.

Wait, back up,  _do_  mind the tickets, because Bucky  _needs_  them.

“Yeah. Yes.  _Done_ ,” Bucky blurts, and holds out his hand, not even caring if Natasha knows how desperate he is.

Natasha hands him the envelope with a quirky smile that says she already knew. “There’s a little something extra in there, too,” she tells him. “Call it an early birthday present.” She’s gone before Bucky can ask what she means.

He opens the envelope with shaking hands. Holy  _fuck_ , front-and-center tickets? Natasha is the  _best_. And behind them… Oh my god, Becca is going to scream so loud they’ll hear her in Russia: they have passes to the post-show backstage party.

Bucky doesn’t get a damn thing done for the rest of the day, because he’s alternating between imagining Becca’s reaction to the news and trying to decide what to wear that might – just  _might_  – catch Tony Stark’s eye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been continued and split out into a standalone fic titled [Stark Naked Science](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4094680/)!


	28. 21-Apr-2015: Setup Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Rating:** T
> 
> **Prompt:** Imagine it's Bucky's first birthday back where he's really reasonably recovered and Steve wants it to be amazing. And all Steve can think about is how Bucky used to be his wingman and how Bucky hasn't gotten laid in aaaaaages and how Bucky and Tony can't stop flirting. Obviously, Steve puts together an elaborate secret!plan with all of the Avengers to set them up, not realizing Tony and Bucky are already stealth!dating. -Anonymous
> 
> **Warnings:** None

Tony walked into the restaurant without removing his sunglasses, expecting to follow the boom of Thor’s voice or the cackle of Clint’s laugh to the other Avengers, but it was… quiet.

Tony took off the sunglasses and looked around. It looked like a nice little place. Steve had found it – he often wandered the city at random when they weren’t busy Avenging, exploring its nooks and crannies. He’d told the team that this place would be great for a team get-together, and promised to make all the arrangements. “How about next week,” he’d suggested. “A nice, quiet dinner for Bucky’s birthday, huh? I mean, I don’t think he’s quite up to your standard of parties yet, Tony.”

Privately, Tony had thought Steve was selling it a little hard, but Steve had been correct; crowds and loud noises both made Bucky anxious, and while he endured pretty well when he had to, that wasn’t any way to enjoy a birthday. So Tony had just agreed that it sounded nice, and gone on with his work.

But here he was, and no one else was here. Had he gotten the time wrong?

But the hostess seemed to recognize him, and wasn’t at all confused by his presence. “Party for Barnes?” she asked. “Right this way, please. We’ve got you in a private room; I hope everything’s to your satisfaction.”

Tony eyed the room as she opened the door. It would be a little crowded with all the Avengers in it, but it had been nicely decorated with several lovely flower arrangements – lilies, Bucky’s favorite, of course. They’d had worse. “It’ll do,” he agreed. She didn’t try to hand him the menu she was carrying – Steve must have briefed her – just left it on the table and disappeared, closing the door behind her, shutting out the murmur and tinkle of the main dining room.

Wow, the soundproofing in this room was good.

Really,  _really_  good.

Tony hesitated, then walked over and opened the door, just to make sure he could.

It opened easily, and there was no one lurking outside it. So not a trap, then; just a restaurant that valued the ability to keep party noise away from its regular bread-and-butter patrons.

…Probably. They might be waiting for the rest of the Avengers to show up.

Tony picked out a chair and sat down, and made a mental note to check with Bruce and find out whether his recent heightened sense of paranoia was actually a problem or just the natural consequence of being a superhero.

Speaking of the rest of the Avengers, where were they? Tony was almost  _never_  the first to arrive. He was just pulling out his phone to make sure he hadn’t missed an alert when it chimed and a text floated up off the screen:

_Latest lab results surprising, need to start a second batch to verify. Sorry to miss dinner, tell Bucky happy birthday for me. –Bruce_

Well, Bruce was only ever about 30% likely to attend public outings with the team anyway. Tony tapped out a question about Bruce’s experiment and reassured him that he’d be missed.

The phone chimed again.

_Hill has some coordinates I need to check out re: possible AIM activity. Taking Barton with me. Will advise if situation escalates from stealth to smash. Have a piece of cake for me. :) –Nat_

Tony blinked at his phone. Natasha and Bucky were pretty tight, these days. If the situation was so urgent that the investigation couldn’t be put off for a few hours, why hadn’t Hill notified  _him_?

Tony narrowed his eyes and sat back to wait for the next message, and sure enough, there it was: Sam’s wings had malfunctioned while doing some practice maneuvers out in the mountains, and Thor was flying out to pick him up. And then, right on cue, Pepper with a minor-but-urgent SI crisis.

Tony wondered what excuse Steve would have that he thought would actually suffice to get him out of his  _best friend’s_  birthday dinner, but the phone stayed dark this time.

Instead, five minutes later, Bucky came in, slightly flushed from the cool wind outside and dressed to kill. “Hey,” he said to Tony, giving the hostess his most charming smile as he took off his jacket. “Steve and I were almost on the doorstep when he realized he’d forgotten the cake. I told him to just forget it, that we’d eat it later, but you know how he can get. He said he’d jog back for it and catch up in half an hour.” He looked around the room, belatedly realizing it was just the two of them. “Where is everyone?”

Tony snorted and held up his phone. “Not coming. And I’ll bet half a million that Steve will get delayed by something and not come back, either. I think they’re trying to set us up.”

Bucky blinked. “What?”

Tony grinned. “Set us up. You know, to relieve all that crackling and  _unresolved_  sexual tension between us. I’m going to go with it being Steve’s idea; the strategic plan has his feel.”

Bucky’s eyes had narrowed. “That conniving little punk.”

“It’s what we get for keeping it under wraps, you know.”

“Probably. What do you think we should do to get back at them?”

Tony pretended to consider it. “Arrange it so they catch us having sex in semi-public places?”

Bucky smirked. “You’re such an asshole.”

“It’s what you love most about me, admit it.”

“I admit nothing,” Bucky said, but he’d already pulled Tony’s chair out from the table and was slotting himself between Tony’s knees, leaning in for a slow and dirty kiss. “Think we should practice that semi-public notion here?” he asked. “Since we apparently have the room to ourselves?”

Tony’s hands came to rest on Bucky’s hips. “The soundproofing in here is really good,” he pointed out.

“Let’s find out just  _how_  good.” Bucky started unfastening Tony’s trousers. “It’s my birthday, after all, I should get to have dessert first.”


	29. 22-Apr-2015: Manipulation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Rating:** T
> 
> **Prompt:** Imagine Tony occasionally being an ass just to be an ass but also because he knows that Bucky has discovered that doing anything with The Arm will ensure a more pliable, very enthusiastic Tony (picking things up with it, brushing his hair back, etc.) Imagine Bucky doing this for everything from chores to getting Tony to rest when he's injured. -Anonymous
> 
> **Warnings:** None

“Look, we all agreed to this, and it’s your turn. Stop stalling,” Steve was saying as Bucky came down the hall.

“Yeah, but, hey – here’s a thought,” Tony said in his most careless, Steve-provoking tones. “I  _provided_  the living space for everyone, so maybe that means I don’t have to  _clean_  it.” He turned and pointed at the couch that was out of Bucky’s line of sight. “Back me up here, Bruce, buddy!”

“Given the mess you made in my lab the other day?” Bruce said, “I’m gonna have to go with Steve on this one. Come on, Tony, vacuuming takes about fifteen minutes. You’ve already argued longer than that.”

“I’m sorry, what are we arguing about?” Bucky interjected as he came fully into the room.

“About whether–” Tony trailed off, watching the way Bucky was carding his metal fingers through his hair. “About,” he tried again, and got stuck on the way Bucky’s fingers were carefully teasing a tangle out. “Uh.”

“Hmm,” Bucky said, hiding his smile. “Well, whatever it was, it doesn’t sound like it was that important. Hey, when you’re done with the vacuuming, let me know; one of the vent-plates is acting a little sticky; I’d appreciate an extra set of hands.”

“Huh? Uh, yeah, sure,” Tony agreed, absently reaching for the handle of the vacuum.

***

“I went to a Board meeting just last week, Pepper,” Tony was whining. “How many of them are you going to insist I go to?”

“It wasn’t last week, it was last month,” Pepper corrected. “And, funnily enough, they meet once a month. Now, Daniels is going to ask about the production specs for the new battery packs, and Tavers has been practically salivating at the upcoming contracts for–”

“You do it,” Tony said dismissively. Bucky, on the other side of the room, looked up from his book at that tone. “The Board is boring, I don’t want it. Isn’t this what I pay you for?”

“No, Tony, you pay me to be CEO. But I’m  _not_  the majority shareholder. That’s you, as it happens, and if you want to continue to have a company to hold shares  _in_ , I strongly suggest that you go to the meetings!”

“Daniels wouldn’t know reasonable production specs if they put on a Captain America uniform and bit him on the ass,” Tony said, but his eyes locked on the way Bucky was spinning a pencil between his metal fingers. “And Tavers only wants that contract because…” Bucky switched from spinning the pencil to turning it end-over-end, letting the metal fingers slide lightly over its length before reaching the end and letting it flip over to do again. “Because…” Tony said, but it came out a bit breathy.

“Tell Tavers why she can’t have the contract,” Pepper said firmly, “not me. Go put on some clothes that don’t smell like week-old takeout, and I’ll have Happy pick you up in an hour.”

“Uh. Yeah,” Tony said, eyes still locked on Bucky’s pencil. “An hour. Okay.”

Pepper disconnected, and Tony’s eyes snapped up to meet Bucky’s, guiltily, as if he’d been caught ogling someone’s derrière.

Bucky just smiled. “You should wear that purple and blue tie,” he suggested mildly. “It looks really good on you.”

***

“Might not want to go down there,” Natasha said as Bucky reached for the door that led down to Tony’s lab. She was sitting at the table with the best view and line of attack on the door, as if she was guarding it.

Bucky paused. A warning from the Black Widow was nothing to take lightly. “What’s going on?”

“He’s going on thirty-six hours without sleep,” Natasha said. “I went down a couple of hours ago to try to coax him out, but no dice.”

Tony must have really gotten the bit in his teeth, then, because it took a special kind of stubborn to resist Natasha’s brand of manipulation.

She must have seen the dawning understanding and distress on Bucky’s face, because she nodded knowingly. “At forty-eight hours,” she volunteered, “I call Thor.”

But bodily dragging Tony out might hurt him, no matter how careful they were, and it wouldn’t do anything to ease the frantic state of mind that was driving Tony to this manic state in the first place. Bucky eyed the door to the lab like an adversary. “Let me try,” he said.

Natasha waved toward the door gracefully. “Just wanted you to know what you were walking into.”

Tony wasn’t working with heavy machinery, at least, and that was one fear put to rest. He was sprawled at his workstation, half a dozen glowing displays in action, his hands dancing over custom keyboards too arcane for lesser mortals.

Not for the first time, Bucky thought that what Tony did and what Doctor Strange did weren’t as dissimilar as Tony insisted. But he kept that thought to himself. Instead, he came up behind Tony and started massaging his shoulders. “Whatcha workin’ on?”

Tony let out an appreciative groan as Bucky’s metal fingers dug into tight muscles. “Trying to figure out how to increase throughput on the flight mechanism without sacrificing maneuverability.”

Bucky worked through it. “You wanna be able to go faster,” he translated.

“Yeah,” Tony said. “If I can get just a two-point-four percent increase in–”

Bucky listened to the babble without really listening to it, finishing the massage and switching to stroking his metal fingers through Tony’s hair and over the nape of his neck, slow and soothing. “That girl’s still bothering you,” he said softly.

“What? No. No, it just made me think–”

“Yeah,” Bucky countered. “You gotta let it go, Tony. She’d have died if you hadn’t caught her.”

“She wouldn’t be facing life in a wheelchair if I’d been a little faster,” Tony snapped.

Bucky closed his hand gently around the back of Tony’s neck, metal thumb stroking over Tony’s pulse point. “It sucks,” Bucky agreed. “Sure it does. But it’s better than no life at all, and you’re doing everything you can. How many lives are you going to miss being able to save if you’re too tired to suit up when the next call comes in, huh?”

Tony looked up at him, desperation haunting his eyes. “Never that tired,” he argued. “You know how that goes.”

Bucky smiled and lifted his hand, stroking metal knuckles down the side of Tony’s face instead, across Tony’s bottom lip. “I do,” he agreed. “But you should get some rest anyway. Go lay down for a while, at least, even if you can’t sleep.”

Tony’s eyelids drooped, and he leaned into the touch, letting out a long, shuddering sigh. Of them all, he was the only one who sought out the touch of Bucky’s metal hand, even though the rest had finally stopped avoiding it. “Gonna come with me?” Tony teased. “Hold me down, make sure I stay put?”

Bucky grinned and leaned in for a kiss. “Sure,” he said. “And maybe if you’re good and actually get some sleep, I’ll wake you up your favorite way.”

Tony laughed. “Now how am I supposed to go to sleep with  _that_  thought hanging over me?”

“You’re the genius,” Bucky said amiably, using the arm to half-lift Tony out of his chair. “You’ll figure something out.”


	30. 24-Apr-2015: Prosthetics Class

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Rating:** G
> 
> **Prompt:** Imagine Howard and Peggy are supposed to teach a joint MIT/Military class on "Prosthetic Development for Usage by Returning Vets". But then Howard's gotta deal with some SI emergency plus his son, Tony, is actually the brains behind SI's Prosthetics division anyway. Then Peggy gets sent on special assignment so she asks her boyfriend's best friend, Bucky, to fill in for her - he has more experience with Prosthetics, so that's useful. -Anonymous
> 
> **Warnings:** None

Tony wondered if there really was an emergency in the Armored Vehicles department or if Howard had always planned to dump this class into Tony’s lap. It was no secret that Howard held Prosthetics in contempt because it was SI’s lowest-earning division, but Tony had thought he’d finally get his father to at least  _look_  at the latest designs.

But instead, Tony was standing at the front of an intimidatingly large lecture hall at MIT – he was pretty sure none of the classes had been this big when he’d been a student here; this must be new – with a sample case at his feet and only half an hour to figure out what to talk about before they unlocked the doors.

And Peggy, his co-speaker, wasn’t here yet.

Tony shuffled through his notes. The techies in the audience might be able to follow the latest advancements in microcircuitry, but no one else would. The medics coming from the Army were going to need to know about the dermal calibration phase, of course, but this really wasn’t a good forum for something quite so detailed, and–

A side door opened and Tony nearly collapsed with relief. “Peggy,” he gasped, “please tell me you have a plan for– You’re not Peggy.”

The guy coming through the door paused, his eyes rounding in comic shock, and looked down at himself. “Damn it,” he said. “I knew I should’ve used her lipstick if I wanted to fool anyone.”

Tony let out a startled giggle. “Sorry,” he said quickly. “I mean, I was expecting–”

“Peggy, yeah,” the guy said, grinning. “I got that.” He came closer, and Tony was hard-pressed not to stare, because whoever he was, the guy was blazingly hot. He offered a hand, casual, and Tony almost expected the touch to be searing. “Call me Bucky. And you're… Howard?”

“Nah, Howard couldn’t make it. I’m Tony.” Tony braced for the reaction.

“Oh, thank god.”

Well, that wasn’t the reaction Tony had braced for. “Um?”

“Well, the way Pegs described it, I was looking for an old, kinda skeezy guy, and I was beginning to wonder if her vision was going or what, because you, my friend, are _smoking_.”

Tony was so caught up in the delight of hearing his father described as an old skeez that he floundered over the last bit for a couple of seconds before it fully registered. “I, what?”

Bucky apparently hadn’t noticed. “Anyway, she got called out on an emergency and talked me into taking her place – I swear, that woman could talk a bull into giving milk. …Wait, horrible mental image, scratch that.”

“I have no idea what’s going on right now,” Tony admitted.

“Great! Me either!” Bucky grinned. “So what’s next?”

“Well, I–” Tony’s entire train of thought was derailed as he glanced down and saw Bucky’s left hand. “Why is your hand neon pink?”

“Hey, don’t get all gender-normative on me now,” Bucky said. “I happen to  _like_  pink. ‘Bout as far as you can get from olive drab, for one thing.”

Tony waved a dismissive hand over the gender issue. “But we don’t  _make_  a prosthetic in that color,” he said. “Our pink is a lot lighter. Unless you… Wait. Really? Did you seriously come to a discussion on the  _latest developments in prosthetics_  while wearing a piece of shit  _Hammer hand_?”

Bucky squinted at him. “We?” he repeated. “ _Our_  pink?” he repeated, and then his eyes widened. “Oh, fuck, you’re Tony  _Stark_.” The bright pink hand came up to cover Bucky’s face, and his sleeve slid up to reveal that it was at least most of an arm, running up past his elbow. “Oh, god. I knew I should’ve read the file Peggy gave me. You probably think I’m a total asshole now.”

Tony grinned. “Well, probably not  _total_ ,” he said, “but at least you got a color that matches your blush. That’s adorable.”

Bucky groaned. “I did the research, I  _wanted_  a Stark model,” he sighed, “but I was kind of out of it at the hospital and I didn’t realize the prosthetics rep was taking kickbacks from Hammer. I’ve got it straight now, but it’ll be another six months before the insurance will cover a new arm for me.”

“Oh, Hammer, you cheeky little fraud, you,” Tony sighed, mockingly light. “Tell you what – let me use you as a guinea pig to show off the latest model today” –he gestured to the packing case he’d brought with him– “and we’ll hook you up with a new arm, free of charge.”

Bucky peered at him over the top of the pink hand. “Really?”

Tony grinned and unlatched the case, throwing the lid open to reveal the sample pieces he’d brought with him. “The limbs are ultramodular, so the attachment point won’t be a problem. The size isn’t quite right, but this is just for demonstration anyway. We’ll get you into our lab to get you properly fitted for the real deal, of course.”

“Are you just trying to get me out of my shirt?” Bucky teased. “You haven’t even bought me a drink yet.”

“Have dinner with me,” Tony suggested, “and I’ll see what I can do about getting you a pink paint job.”

“Eh, I think I’m over the pink,” Bucky said, his eyes hungry on the shiny chrome of the sample arm. “But I might take you up on dinner anyway.”


	31. 28-Apr-2015: How To Train Your Dragon AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Rating:** G
> 
> **Prompt:** omg. watching how to train your dragon with my niece. AND wow. imagine tony as hiccup and bucky as astrid. imagine fed up astrid!bucky so done with hiccup!tony's latest shenanigans? toothless!steve's eyes almost rolling out of his head... -Anonymous
> 
> **Warnings:** None

They’d never seen a dragon like this before, but Tony leapt onto Steve’s back with absolute confidence and they were airborne before Tony had even finished tightening the saddle straps, because whatever stunted form of self-preservation Steve had been born with must’ve been in the bit of his tail that Tony had lopped off on their first meeting. As always, they wanted to be the first to greet a newcomer, even if the newcomer didn’t look the least bit friendly.

Bucky ran after them, yelling for them to stop, to wait, already knowing it was futile. He pulled to a stop at the edge of the bluff, unable to take his eyes off them even when Sam sidled up beside him.

He had a bad feeling. A bad,  _bad_  feeling. There was no denying Tony’s gift for taming dragons, for  _communicating_  with them, but this one… This one felt  _off_. “I don’t like the looks of that dragon,” Bucky admitted quietly, since it was only Sam who could hear him.

Sam huffed in agreement, and ducked his long, sinuous neck to nudge Bucky’s hand up into his neck quills.

Bucky chuckled and scratched, but still couldn’t stop watching as Tony and Steve drew closer and closer to the new dragon.

He was so tightly focused that he didn’t notice Clint approaching until the archer had pulled up beside him. “Chief Fury’s got them manning the defenses, just in case,” Clint said.

Bucky glanced back, just to confirm that Natasha had followed Clint up to the bluff. She was in high alert mode, as well, her usually shiny scales dulled down to matte black, and little sparks of electricity were dancing around her jaws and throat, ready to be fired. Her eyes were locked on the new dragon as well.

“Shit,” Clint gasped, and Bucky spun back, heart in his throat, hand tightening on the strap of Sam’s riding harness, eyes automatically scaning for – there, Steve’s brilliant scales and Tony’s flashy armor. They were okay, so far, still heading for the new dragon.

What is it?“ Bucky demanded.

“New dragon has a rider,” Clint said, pointing.

Bucky frowned, but it was hard to fool Clint’s eyes. He braced himself on Clint’s shoulder and Sam’s neck and looked  _hard_  – and sure enough, what he’d thought had been a spinal ridge was actually a person, riding low and hugging tight to the dragon’s neck.

“Holy hell,” Bucky murmured. “I thought we were the only ones. Someone should probably go tell Chief Fury.”

“I just got here,” Clint pointed out. “You go tell him.”

“He likes you better,” Bucky started, but the new dragon struck, quick as lightning, and there was a flash of red, and–

Steve was falling out of the sky, Tony with him. They weren’t out entirely – Steve was flailing, trying to regain his balance, but he was dropping so  _fast_ … Bucky scrambled onto Sam’s back, Sam’s wings already spreading. There was no way they could make it in time, but Bucky couldn’t just stand here and watch,  _couldn’t_.

Sam launched off the cliff and dove toward the water below like a hunting falcon, building up speed the fastest way possible. Bucky hugged the dragon’s neck and squinted through the tears caused by the rush of wind, searching. “Damn it, Tony,” he whispered, “if you’re not dead, I’m going to  _kill you_. And your punk-ass dragon, too.”

(That was a lie, of course. Bucky was going to punch him, really hard. And then kiss him senseless.)


	32. 30-Apr-2015: Meeting Jarvis Sr.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Rating:** G
> 
> **Prompt:** imagine Tony excitedly entering the common room in the tower. he goes on a cleaning spree, even getting those in the room to help him. they don't know why he's decided to clean but the mystery is soon answered when JARVIS announces a visitor. Tony is all but vibrating and when the elevator doors open to reveal a man in his late 80's Tony goes to hug the man. they find out it's Edwin Jarvis, name sake of JARVIS and father figure to Tony and Bucky realizes, he's meeting his boyfriend's father. -Anonymous
> 
> **Warnings:** None

“Anthony,” the old man says, his English accent as clipped and proper as any Bucky’s ever heard, even as old arms wrap gingerly around Tony’s waist to return the hug, “I’m glad to see you.” He pauses as he notices the Avengers gathered in the room, watching them, and makes an obvious effort to straighten his stooped shoulders. “You didn’t say you had guests, Anthony. You mustn’t neglect them for one old man.”

“Nonsense,” Tony returns, his voice as gentle and fond as Bucky’s ever heard it. He releases the old man with one arm but keeps the other firmly around the man’s back. “They’re not guests; they live here. And I was hoping you’d get to meet them. These are my friends.” Bucky’s pleased to note that Tony didn’t hesitate over the word “friends” at all, not like he used to.

“Well,” says the old man with brisk certainty. “Any friend of Anthony’s is an acquaintance I should be more than pleased to make.” He gives Tony a contented smile.

Tony smiles back, and it’s one of those rare, unguarded smiles of untempered affection, the kind that steals Bucky’s breath away with wonder whenever it’s directed at him, and Bucky realizes who it must be an instant before Tony speaks.

“Everyone, I’d like you all to meet Mr. Edwin Jarvis.”

Tony’s talked about this man before, many times – ten times more than he’s mentioned Howard or his mother, and with a hundred times more warmth and respect. Tony might have inherited Howard’s genius and Maria’s gift for languages and music, but it was Jarvis who gave Tony the generosity and kindness and heart that Bucky loves in him most. For all intents and purposes, Edwin Jarvis was – and still is – Tony’s father.

Bent with age, frail, and palsied, this man could destroy Bucky with a single word; could wound him with no more than disdainful expression. Bucky tucks his hands behind his back to stand at parade rest, partly to hide the arm, and partly because his hands are suddenly shaking.

And of course it’s Bucky that Tony leads Mr. Jarvis to first. “Jarvis, this is Bucky, my… well, ‘boyfriend’ feels a bit childish at our age, but ‘partner’ is so dry, and some of the other–”

“You’re rambling, Anthony,” Mr. Jarvis says firmly, and like a miracle from the heavens, Tony actually  _shuts up_. Mr. Jarvis offers Bucky a hand, and Bucky unfolds his good hand from behind his back to take it, careful of the old man’s obviously arthritic joints. “I’ve heard many good things about you, Mr. Barnes, both present and past. I hope you won’t be too embarrassed to learn that I was quite the fan of your exploits, back in the day.”

Bucky can feel a blush crawling down his neck, but he’d done a brief publicity tour with Steve back in '44 and somehow the old charm rises out of the fog of his memories. “Aw, most of what that was hooey,” Bucky drawls, putting on his best sheepish grin. “The folks who wrote those things didn’t have any idea how it really was.”

Mr. Jarvis’ expression flickers, too fast for Bucky to identify the expression, but he nods. “That’s true,” he says softly. “I think that might be what I liked about them best.” He lifts a hand to squeeze Bucky’s arm just above the elbow – Bucky thinks it would have been a shoulder clasp if the old man’s body had allowed him to lift so high – and says, “You’ll take good care of Master Anthony for me, now, won’t you?”

Bucky finds himself caught in those eyes, clouded with age and surrounded by wrinkles and nothing at all like Tony’s except for the warmth in their depths, and he says, “With all my strength.”

“No,” Mr. Jarvis corrects, not unkindly, “with all your heart.”

When Bucky looks up, Tony is watching them both, eyes shining with pride and love. “Yes, sir,” Bucky agrees, and he reaches out with his left hand to squeeze Tony’s hand. “Every bit of it, and then some.”


	33. 2-May-2015: Time Travel - Tony Meets WW2 Bucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Rating:** T
> 
>  **Prompt:** Imagine Tony by some accident in his lab or some asgardian magics (f*ing magic) ending up in WW2 and meeting the Howling Commandos and Bucky. Imagine Tony getting in an arguement with his dad (who may or may not know who he is) and it ending up with Bucky punching Howard in the face. Imagine there being pictures of Tony and Bucky together who've survived when Tony returns. Imagine Winter Soldier-Bucky suddenly remembering Tony being in the past... -ander-s
> 
>  **Warnings:** None

Tony’s relationship with his father was complicated, to say the least, but he’d relaxed about the topic a lot over the last few months, ever since that one battle that had ended with Bucky choking out a tearful confession and basically kissing Tony back to life. (The others were still giving them shit over that, but neither Tony nor Bucky minded all that much.)

Tony could even listen to Steve’s old war-stories about Howard without flinching now, and if he especially liked the ones that ended with Howard getting punched, well, no one really blamed him too much for that. Bucky didn’t usually contribute much to those stories, since his memories of his pre-Hydra days were still foggy and uncertain, but once in a while Steve would be in the midst of a story and Bucky would absently throw out a correction or a detail before realizing he’d done it.

“…thought we were gonna have to carry him to the med tent,” Steve was saying, giggling into his Asgardian meade, “but he just popped right back up and got all excited because the shiner was a good excuse to test out some salve he’d been working on. Never seen ol’ Dum-Dum so flustered as when he was faced with a man who was  _happy_  to have been punched!”

Bucky didn’t join in the general mirth; he was making the face that meant something Steve said had dragged an old memory to the surface. “I clocked him once, didn’t I?” Bucky said, cocking his head at Steve to request clarification.

Steve nodded, but slowly, as if he wasn’t certain. “You told me about it, but I wasn’t there,” Steve said. “What do you remember?”

Bucky chewed on his lip, thinking. “Went ‘round to his lab because the scope he’d made me was acting screwy, wanted him to take a look at it. And he was in the middle of an argument with that guy, that scientist, what was his name? James something? Went by Jamie when it turned out there was already a fuckload of Jameses in the camp.”

“Oh, that guy.” Steve grinned slyly. “You had the  _biggest_  crush.”

“I did not!” Bucky’s hand tightened on Tony’s knee and his ears turned red.

“You sure as hell did,” Steve said. “Your scope broke at least twice a week while he was there and you were always just sort of lurking around the labs; it was  _pathetic_.”

“Fuck you, Rogers,” Bucky said, which was what he always said when Steve was right. Steve snickered into his meade. “ _Anyway_ ,” Bucky continued loftily, “I went down, and Howard and Jamie were having it out, don’t even know about what, really, but Howard said something way out of line, something about Jamie not even caring about what happened to the troops – and that was dead wrong, just monstrous, ‘cause Jamie worked like a maniac, 'round the clock, almost as bad as Tony.”

“Hey!” Tony said, but it was only a token protest; he couldn’t really argue the point.

Bucky grinned and leaned in for a conciliatory kiss anyway, then went on, “Anyway, like half the staff was offended – everyone liked Jamie – so I just hauled off and clocked Howard right in the face.”

Tony snickered and reeled Bucky in for another kiss, but then Bucky pulled away and scrambled off the couch, heading for the elevator with purpose. He was back only a few minutes later with what looked like an old photo album.

“Is that the one the Smithsonian sent me?” Steve said, suddenly hesitant. “The photos they weren’t using in the exhibit?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said happily. “I just remembered that we took a picture with Jamie right before they shipped him out again, and I’m pretty sure it’s in here.”

“Oh, don’t go digging now,” Tony said uneasily. “We can look for it tomorrow, right? Put that away so Natasha can tell us that one she promised to tell us about that guy she met in Kosolev with the glass eye. Right, Nat?”

“Aha!” Bucky said triumphantly, pulling out a faded black and white photo. “I knew it! Look, there’s Steve, and there’s me, and there’s… There’s… Huh.”

Tony slumped, covering his face with his hand.

“This guy sure looks a lot like you, Tony.”

“Yeah,” Tony sighed.

“Wait, you’ve already been?” Steve said, surprised. “When did it happen?”

Tony kept his hand over his eyes. “About two months ago. When did you recognize me, Cap?”

“The first time I laid eyes on you out of the armor,” Steve admitted. “I’ve been keeping it quiet because I didn’t know if you’d been yet and I didn’t want to mess with the time stream or whatever. You should’ve told me when it happened.”

“Wait, what?” Bucky said.

Tony huffed out another sigh. “That thing with the guy who’d gotten his hands on a buried cache of Asgardian weapons? One of them sent me back in time. You remember that bit with the smoke and you lost track of me for a bit? Then.”

“But you were out of my sight for less than two minutes. Jamie was in camp with us for, geez, a couple of months at least!”

“Time travel’s funny like that. When Thor reversed the device’s effects, I reappeared only a few seconds after I’d left.”

“Stevie?” Bucky sounded  _lost_. “You didn’t even tell me?”

“I figured you’d say something if you remembered, Buck,” Steve said, sounding a bit sheepish. “I didn’t want to put false memories into your head.”

Bucky fell silent. Tony didn’t want to uncover his face to see how mad Bucky was. Tony had latched onto the slightly younger version of his lover almost immediately, charming his way into the sergeant’s friendship and flirting shamelessly whenever no one else could hear. If he’d stuck around another few weeks, he might’ve even managed to seduce Bucky, dangerous as that would’ve been.

After a long pause, Bucky said, “Must’ve been nice to have me all in one piece for a change.”

Well, of all the possibilities whirling through Tony’s mind, that wasn’t among them. He sat up straight and stared at Bucky. “That’s not what it– That never even crossed my mind!”

“Didn’t it?”

“What I liked best about you-then was that you – he – reminded me of you-now! I probably shouldn’t have let you get so close, but I was stuck and… and a little scared that I would never come home to you.” That hurt to admit, but it was only the truth. “You’re the one I love, you’re the one I’d pick, given a choice, every time. I’m sorry,” he added.

“I’m not,” Bucky said. He pulled Tony into his lap, oblivious to everyone else in the room, and cupped Tony’s face in his hands. “Maybe I wouldn’t have such a taste for dark-haired, silver-tongued bastards now if that handsome devil James Kirkland hadn’t spent two months sweet-talkin’ me into such a state that I could barely sleep at night.”

On the other side of the room, Clint burst into laughter. Tony glared.

Clint just kept  _howling_  with laughter. “Did,” Clint gasped, “did you seriously turn up in 1944 and” –he paused for yet another spate of giggles– “and give them a barely-disguised fake name from  _Star Trek,_ you _nerd_?”

Even Bruce and Sam were chuckling now, and Steve was looking slightly surprised, as if he’d only just put it together. Natasha leaned over to whisper an explanation to Thor, but Tony could see her smirk.

“I hate you all,” Tony announced, and wrapped his arms around Bucky’s neck. “Come on, let’s leave these assholes here and go have our own party.”

Bucky obligingly stood up, as smoothly as if he didn’t even notice Tony’s legs wrapping around his waist. “What kind of party did you have in mind,  _Jamie_?”

“Such a jerk,” Tony said, pretending to be put out. “Be nice to me, or I won’t show you just what I can do with this silver tongue of mine.”


	34. 7-May-2015: 40's Noir/Mob AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Rating:** T
> 
> **Prompt:**  
>  \- Imagine Tony and Bucky are desperately in love but have to hide it from everyone cause its Mafia AU and their families are rivals. - Anonymous  
> \- imagine mob boss au where bucky is steves right hand man who falls for the rival mob leader tony stark -Anonymous  
> \- Imagine 40s!Bucky and an MCU version of Noir!Tony trying to carry on a secret relationship. (Also, please imagine a happy ending too!) -Anonymous
> 
> **Warnings:** None

Bucky swung into the office lobby with his customary swagger. Natalia was sitting at the desk pretending to be a secretary, but Bucky knew better than that. “How is he?”

Natalia looked up at the clock on the wall and shook her head sadly. “You’re late,” she said.

Bucky followed her gaze to the clock: only by ten minutes. “It’s that bad, huh?”

“Well it’s not  _good_ , Barnes,” she said. “Better get in there before it gets worse.”

Bucky grimaced and pushed through the heavy oak door into the Captain’s office. “Hey, boss, sorry I’m late,” he said, trying for a light and easy tone.

“Lose track of time while you were makin’ time with your girl?” Steve asked, matching Bucky’s tone.

Shit. That wasn’t the good sign that most woulda taken it to be. “Little bit,” Bucky agreed cautiously. “But I’m here now. Whatcha got for me?”

Steve leaned back in his chair, steeping his fingers in front of his face. Bucky tried hard not to squirm. Never mind that he and Steve had grown up together the best of friends; the last several years had all but turned Steve into a stranger, dangerous and ruthless. Steve had always had a temper, but now he was learning to hold a grudge. “You know,“ Steve said slowly, not smiling now, “I thought you were my man, Buck, through and through, to the end of the line.”

“Course I am,” Bucky said quickly. “I’m your good right hand, you said it yourself!”

“Yeah? What if I said I needed you to cross someone off?”

Bucky shrugged. Steve didn’t order that many hits – it was bad for business – but Bucky wasn’t exactly a stranger to them. “Whatever you need, boss,” he said smoothly. “Who needs to be taken out? One of the goons tried to sell out? Prosecutor decided to stop taking your bank?” Steve was just looking at him, eyebrows slightly raised. “Mayor?” Bucky guessed. “Senator? President? C'mon, Steve, at least gimme a hint!”

Steve smiled, then, and cold certainty wrapped around Bucky’s spine in the breath before he spoke. “How about Tony Stark?” Steve said softly, and he tossed a fan of photographs on the desk.

The topmost showed Stark at the new nightclub he’d just opened, the Iron. He was as handsome as ever, impeccably groomed and expensively dressed, his most charming smile on his face, one hand holding a cocktail.

The other hand was resting at the small of Bucky’s back.

“Ah, hell,” Bucky sighed. “Boss, it ain’t like it looks, okay?”

“Are you sure about that?” Steve asked, still mild, still dangerous. He shuffled out another picture. It was gritty with lack of light, but the silhouettes were unmistakeable, Bucky pushing Tony against the wall and leaning close, captured a sparse second before Bucky’s mouth had met Tony’s. “Because it looks to me like maybe you lied to me about having a girl, for starters.”

Bucky drew a shaky breath and tore his eyes from that damning, compelling picture. “I, I did,” he admitted. “But I’m not going behind your back, I swear it!”

“No?” Steve folded his arms, and Bucky couldn’t help but watch those powerful muscles flex. “You’re my oldest friend, Bucky. I couldn’t even believe the story until I saw these pictures. But here they are, and I don’t see you jumping up to tell me they’re fakes.”

Bucky swallowed hard, and tried to tell himself that if Steve’s mind was already made up, then Bucky would already be dead. “Gimme a chance to explain, Stevie, please.”

Steve stared at him, considering, and Bucky tried not to hunch his shoulders or fidget. He tried to distract himself by wondering who’d taken the pictures. The Iron was super-exclusive, with no less than five levels of security between the street and the VIP lounge where that picture had been taken; they should’ve been safe there. Spy work was usually Natalia, but if she’d known about this, she wouldn’t have been so cordial when Bucky’d come in. Was it Barton? The Carter sisters?

Finally, Steve shifted, and his eyes were hard. “I had Howard Stark taken down for very good reasons, Buck.”

Bucky didn’t even try to argue that. That had been years ago, and Bucky had been on ice at Hydra Pen at the time, tight solitary. He hadn’t gotten any news at all for almost a year before Steve had finally cracked the deal that got him sprung. So many things had changed by the time Bucky had breathed free air again that he’d given up on getting it all straight and just focused on taking orders and moving forward. Had that been the start of this coldness in Steve?

“The Starks are a blight on this town and an insult to the way we do business,” Steve continued. “But you’re practically my brother. So you get one chance.  _One_.”

“Thank you,” Bucky said, not trying to disguise the shaky relief in his voice.

“Don’t thank me yet. Start talking.”

Bucky nodded. “I ain’t– we ain’t– Ain’t  _business_ , between us. He’s just my fella. Or I’m his, however you wanna look at it. He doesn’t know who I am. Well, he ain’t dumb, he probably does, but he doesn’t let on like he knows. And I don’t let on that I know who he is, what he does. Even if he probably knows that I know. Point is, when we’re together, it’s not business. It’s just… just us.”  _Just like the two of us used to be_ , he doesn’t say aloud. Not that Bucky and Steve were ever  _together_ , not like he and Tony were, but there used to be a time when they’d been happy to just be friends together, without the business clouding everything.

Steve heard it anyway, or maybe just knew Bucky far too well. “He’s luring you in,” Steve suggested. “Gaining your trust.”

Bucky scowled. “He ain’t. Steve, I’m not gonna spill your secrets for him, no matter how much I– no matter what happens between us. Okay? He’s my guy, but all he’s ever asked from me is my time.” Well, his time and his body, but Steve was in no mood for clowning and teasing. “I’m your man, Steve, your good right hand, just like I’ve always been.”

Steve wanted to believe him, Bucky could tell. “And what happens if things heat up again? What happens if Stark decides to make a play for our territory?”

“Is that what Howard did?” Bucky asked, pushing now. If Steve wasn’t going to listen, if Bucky was about to die, then he might as well say his piece before he went. “I never asked, Stevie, ‘cause I don’t care. You’re a fair man; you’ll have done what needed doing, no more and no less. But Tony, he ain’t like Howard was. He don’t talk business with me, but walkin’ into his territory, into his clubs, into his house… His business is cleaner than it’s ever been, I can  _feel_  it. He’s been tightening the reins, ever since he scratched off that Stane guy–”

Steve visibly started. “ _Tony_  offed Stane? I knew Stane was gone, and I won’t say that wasn’t a relief, but I didn’t realize Stark ordered it.”

Bucky shook his head. “With his own hands, they say, and only Potts at his shoulder. They keep it pretty quiet, and like I said, we don’t talk business, but there’s things I can’t help but pick up. Best I can piece together is that Stane was looking to take the hotseat, but he tipped his hand and… well. Tony’s been cleaning house ever since, trying to dig out Stane’s supporters and boot them, one way or another.”

Steve nodded in understanding, and rubbed a hand over his chin thoughtfully. “That puts a different light on things,” he admitted.

Bucky managed to keep the surprise off his face, but only just. How many times in the years they’d known each other had Steve been the one to back down first? Bucky could probably count them on one hand.

“I would never cross you, Steve,” Bucky said quietly. Steve looked at him sharply, but the coldness had faded, so Bucky dared take a few steps closer, to put his hand on the desk and lean in. “Never,” he repeated. “Not because you would kill me – you know I’d die for you in a heartbeat – but because I  _love you_ , you big jerk.”

Steve accepted that with a grave nod. “But you love him, too.”

“Yeah,” Bucky agreed, shivering just a bit. He’d only just admitted as much to Tony a few days ago – the night those pictures had been taken, in fact. Idly, he wondered if Steve would let him keep that one of them in the alley… “Yeah, I really do.”

Steve still held his gaze, steady and firm. “What will you do if Stark and I find ourself at odds?”

Bucky closed his eyes. “Don’t know,” he admitted. “Might depend on circumstances. Probably kill me either way, though, so I don’t much want to find out.” He opened his eyes again to find Steve still watching him. “Rather have us be allies.”

Steve’s eyesbrows raised, just a fraction.

Bucky shrugged. “Easier to watch both your backs if you’re standing shoulder-to-shoulder.”

Steve sat still for another interminable moment, thinking it over. Finally, he sat back in his chair, relaxed and easy. “Set it up,” he said, short and sharp, the tone Bucky thought of as the Captain’s Voice. “Somewhere neutral, let him pick and I’ll approve it. Two guards apiece. That’s negotiable; find out what he’s comfortable with.”

Bucky blinked in shock. “Stevie?”

“I’ll  _talk_ ,” Steve said. “Not making any promises. But if he’s willing, I’ll talk.”

Bucky smiled, then, and felt his knees wobble in relief. “Thank you,” he said.

Steve reached across the desk and squeezed Bucky’s shoulder. “Don’t thank me yet,” he said, though his eyes were twinkling. “If we end up deciding to seal the deal with a wedding, Clint’ll give you hell to the end of time about how you’re in no fit state to wear white.”


	35. 14-May-2015: Dragon!Tony AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Rating:** T
> 
>  **Prompt:**  
>  \- Imagine Tony is a dragon and uses glamors and spells to hide his more draconic features from sight and to keep his human form up. everyone, including Howard and Maria who had adopted him, thinks he's a human. well to Tony's surprise Bucky is his mate and well during a mission gone bad maybe Tony and Bucky are falling from somewhere up high, Tony doesn't have his suit, and has to turn into his dragon form to save Bucky. Bucky's surprised and in awe of the brilliant deep red and gold scales. - Anonymous  
> \- imagine Tony is actually a mythical creature in human disguise (i don’t know maybe a dragon, basilisk, unicorn an Anubis avatar, take your pick) and only Pepper, Rhodey and Happy know. that is until Bucky and the others find out somehow. maybe they get attacked while on vacation somewhere (just their luck really) and Tony, not having his suit, has no choice but to shift into his true form to save his friend’s lives. and of course his boyfriend who he ends up being very protective of. -Anonymous
> 
>  **Warnings:** None

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Русский translation [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9518399). Thank you, [Heidel](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Heidel/pseuds/Heidel)!

Tony stopped on the tarmac just short of the stairs to the Stark Industries private jet. “Look, you don’t have to come with me,” he said. “You got me this far, and Pepper’s meeting me in London, and you know no one would dare touch me when she’s around.”

Bucky just shook his head and pointed at the stairs, then followed Tony up. “Steve said I should stick with you as long as your suit is out of commission,” Bucky said. He pulled the door shut and sealed it, then knocked on the already-locked door to the pilot’s cabin to let them know they were aboard. “I’m not about to let him down. I know you don’t like me, but you can just ignore me, okay? Pretend I’m a hired bodyguard or something.”

“It’s not that I don’t like you!” Tony protested. God, he  _wished_  it was that. Tony had been pretending to make nice with people he didn’t like for most of his life; that was  _easy_. It was just that having Bucky around so constantly was going to be a real strain. He wouldn’t be able to relax his guard for a minute, or Bucky would uncover every one of Tony’s secrets.

“What is it, then?” Bucky challenged as he settled into one of the posh seats and strapped in for takeoff.

Tony took a seat across the aisle. “I just don’t think I need a babysitter,” he grumbled. “I’m still Iron Man without the suit.”

Bucky laughed. “Steve’s always been a mother hen,” he said fondly. “You might have to do what I did, and just get used to it.”

Tony sighed and looked out the window to disguise the way his eyes flickered when he was tired. Holding the same shape day-in, day-out was exhausting. It was going to be a long flight. Maybe later, if he was careful, he could do some sneaky shifting in the bathroom and at least stretch his wings.

***

They were over the Atlantic when what sounded like an explosion came from the cockpit. Tony sat up straight, alarmed, and Bucky, who had been dozing, jolted awake. “What was that?” he demanded.

Tony jabbed at the intercom that connected him to the cockpit. “Everything okay up there?”

No answer.

“Captain?” Tony tried again. “Please respond!”

No answer. Tony exchanged a grim look with Bucky, and they were both out of their seats in the next instant. Bucky’s metal arm made short work of the lock on the cockpit door and wrenched it open:  it looked like the control board had exploded. The pilot was gone, blood spattered everywhere. At least the plane was still flying mostly straight and level. That bought them a little time.

Tony cursed as he peered around Bucky’s shoulder into the tiny space. “Let me in there,” he said. “Maybe I can salvage enough of it to land us. You grab the parachutes in case I can’t.”

Bucky drew a hard breath. “Right.” He grabbed the pilot’s mutilated body and dragged it back with him into the cabin, clearing the space.

Tony reached into the control board and started trying to sort out the blackened, smoking mess of wire and metal. Only a moment later, Bucky was back, cursing vehemently. “There are no ‘chutes,” he snarled. “And look what I found in the pilot’s pocket.” Tony looked up to see Bucky holding out a small, flat pin with Hydra’s logo on it.

“Son of a bitch,” Tony sighed. Before he could regroup and try to figure out what to do next, the entire craft shook violently and then began to fall into a spin. “What the fuck?!” he demanded.

Tony spun around to see that another explosion had blown nearly the entire tail off the plane. Bucky was back at the door to the cockpit, clinging to the dividing wall with his metal hand so tightly the steel had dented.

Fuck. “Do you trust me?” Tony said, shouting over the roaring of wind.

“Yeah, of course,” Bucky said immediately, which was–

No, Tony would have to wait and think about that later. He grabbed Bucky’s arm and groped toward the emergency release handle for the boarding door. “Hang on tight!”

“We’re jumping without a chute?” Bucky yelled, even as he wrapped his arms around Tony. “You’ve been hanging out with Steve too long!”

Tony glanced at Bucky over his shoulder. “You’re not scared at all, are you?” he asked.

Bucky shrugged, a ripple of motion against Tony’s back. “Told you I trust you.”

Tony grinned and pushed on the release, and then they were in freefall. Tony spread his limbs wide and let the change take him, his face and neck elongating, his wings spreading, and his tail whipping out straight like a good stretch after a nap. He wriggled and flapped until Bucky’s grip shifted to something more comfortable, just as a wash of heat and noise from above them signaled the plane’s destruction.

Tony flapped a few times to push them smoothly into a glide and banked out of the path of the flaming wreckage, then twisted his head to see Bucky’s reaction.

Bucky looked… amused? “You’re a dragon?” He said it in a normal voice; if Tony had still been human, it wouldn’t have been audible.

“Yeah,” Tony agreed. “It’s not as cool as it sounds. I can fly, but the whole breathing fire thing is totally a myth.”

“Just flying is pretty cool,” Bucky said. He sounded very calm, which Tony thought was odd right up until he added, “This is a hell of a dream. Usually I just end up, y'know, pinning you to the wall and kissing you.”

Tony’s wings flailed in surprise, and he hoped Bucky wouldn’t be able to read that, or feel the way Tony’s heartbeat had suddenly spiked, despite the fact that he had his arms wrapped around Tony’s neck. “It’s really not a dream,” he said shakily.

“Um. Well, shit, then just pretend I didn’t say–”

“But if you still want to kiss me,” Tony said quickly, “you should do that. Definitely. As soon as possible.”

“Really?” Bucky’s grip shifted as he found a more comfortable position between Tony’s wings. “I thought you didn’t even like me.”

“Kind of the opposite problem,” Tony admitted.

Bucky was quiet for a moment, and then he said, “Okay, here’s the plan: get to safety and let the others know we didn’t just die horribly, then we’re going to have a long talk about this… dragon thing.”

“Do we have to?”

“Yes,” Bucky said firmly. “Also, we’re going to have an even longer talk about the kissing thing.”

"Is there any chance that talk will involve hands-on demonstrations?” Tony asked.

“Absolutely.” Bucky’s human hand relaxed its grip to slide over the sensitive scales on Tony’s neck.

Tony hummed in pleasure, and turned them toward land. “Good plan, then. Also, I think you should be my bodyguard from now on. Just to be safe.”

The wind carried away Bucky’s laugh, but not before Tony heard it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You absolutely should check out [this gorgeous fanart](http://imaginetonyandbucky.tumblr.com/post/118967087056/alvaseneca-okay-bad-english-is-bad-after) of Tony as a dragon by Tumblr user [alvaseneca](http://alvaseneca.tumblr.com/)!


	36. 20-May-2015: De-aged Bucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Rating:** T
> 
> **Prompt:**  
>  \- Imagine baby!James or Toddler!James being in puppy love with Tony, or better yet kinder garden love :3 , first loves like tearful reunions. -mscerisier
> 
> **Warnings:** None

“No, don’t touch–!”

Tony doesn’t know why he even tries, some days. He can’t even summon up a full adrenaline rush of alarm when the weird device they’ve found lets out a brilliant blue-green light, just a faint sense of worry and an overwhelming feeling of exhaustion.

“What happened?” Steve demands, even while the light is still too blindingly bright to see. “Is everyone all right?”

Despite being out of the suit, Tony takes stock and decides that he’s still in one piece, and says so. One by one, the others do the same. All except–

“Bucky?”

It was Bucky who had picked the thing up, of course.

“Winter Soldier, report!”

The light fades, rather suddenly, leaving everyone staring at the center of the room where there is now a small, terrified boy swimming in Bucky’s tactical gear.

“Oh, hell,” Steve curses, and then sighs sharply. “Okay. Come here, Bucky, and let’s get you sorted out.” He reaches to take Bucky’s hand, but the boy scrambles away from Steve. Bucky’s eyes dart around the room, scared.

Tony, without thinking, drops to one knee. “I know he looks pretty scary,” he says solemnly, “but I promise, no one here is going to hurt you.” He holds out his own hand, steady, waiting for Bucky to make the decision.

Bucky hesitates for perhaps the space of a few breaths, then lunges across the room and ignores Tony’s hand in favor of wrapping small arms as far around Tony’s waist as they can reach. Bucky’s face presses against Tony’s side, and even though he’s eerily quiet, Tony can feel his tiny little body heaving with frightened sobs.

Tony ignores the catch in his breath and gingerly pets at Bucky’s head like the boy is some kind of feral cat. “All right,” he says, and then, “Take all the time you need, there, kiddo.” No one else in the room moves; they just stand there in silence and watch Tony awkwardly try to soothe little Bucky’s entirely understandable panic.

When Bucky’s breathing starts to level out again, he stands up, letting Bucky’s hold transfer to a death-grip on his hand. “The kid and I are just gonna head on back to the jet,” Tony says, trying for a nonchalant tone, like he takes care of de-aged team members on a daily basis. “Try to find a juice box or something. Maybe see if we can figure out where Clint’s secret stash of cookies is.”

Clint’s eyes are still round in surprise and glued to Bucky. “They’re in the–”

“Shh,” Tony scolds, “if you tell us, it’s too easy.”

Bucky giggles, barely a breath’s worth of noise, but the sound makes Tony feel warm all over, and he squeeze Bucky’s hand, just a little, before pointing at Steve with his free hand. “Make sure you pack up that whatever-it-is and bring it back with you. Try not to let anyone touch it again in the meantime.”

“Right,” Steve agrees, his tone bemused.

***

“Perfectly healthy,” Bruce reports, “aside from that whole ‘regressed to four years old’ thing, of course. I’m not sure what happened to the– you know, the serum and the arm, though. I hate magic.”

“You and me both, buddy,” Tony agrees, lifting Bucky down from the exam table.

Bruce retrieves a lollipop from a drawer and holds it out, but Bucky shakes his head vehemently, and his death grip on Tony’s leg gets even tighter. Tony brushes a hand over Bucky’s soft, slightly curly hair, soothing.

“What kind of weird kid doesn’t want candy?” he asks lightly, and takes the lollipop from Bruce. “Why do you even have lollipops in here?”

Bruce grins. “Only way to get Clint to sit still long enough for me to stitch him up.”

“That’s kind of brilliant, actually.”

“I  _am_  a genius,” Bruce says.

“Yeah, okay, genius, how come he won’t let anyone but me touch him? Shouldn’t he be best buddies with Steve? Or drawn to Natasha’s maternal charms, or something?”

Bruce snorts. “Natasha has the least maternal instinct of anyone on this team, and you know it. And our Steve isn’t exactly his Steve,” Bruce points out, and then his grin widens. “And you’re the least threatening of us.”

“Ha ha, very funny. Don’t make me call Veronica on your green ass, Banner. If his memories have been regressed too, shouldn’t he be freaking out about the whole 'ninety-years-in-the-future’ bit more?”

“Hmm, good point. But I don’t know that I want to subject him to a brain scan until we’ve at least taken a good look at that device first.”

Now that Tony is holding the lollipop, Bucky’s head has tipped to consider it thoughtfully while Tony and Bruce are talking. After a few breaths, he reaches out for it. Tony moves it out of reach as if by accident. Bucky tries again, and only on the third attempt realizes that he’s being thwarted on purpose. He pouts up at Tony. “Pwease?” he whispers, reaching out for the candy imploringly.

“Oh, hey, you  _can_  talk,” Tony says, pretending surprise. “Tell you what, tell Dr. Banner thank you, and you can have it.”

Bucky glances suspiciously at Bruce, and then back at Tony. “Can’t say fank you for sumfin I don’t got yet.”

Tony points at Bucky with the lollipop. “You are a born negotiator. If I give it to you, are you going to hold up your end of the deal?” Bucky nods quickly, eyes wide and earnest. Tony surrenders the candy and Bucky obediently whispers his thanks at Bruce before beginning to struggle with the wrapper. “Come on, short stuff,” Tony sighs, faking boredom so Bruce won’t see how charmed he is by the entire scene, “let’s go down to the workshop and see how DUM-E deals with sticky fingerprints.”

[](http://imaginetonyandbucky.tumblr.com/post/121761990202/)   
[](http://imaginetonyandbucky.tumblr.com/post/121761990202/)

***

Tony jerks out of sound sleep, disoriented, and immediately lurches upright and into a defensive posture before recognizing the cause of his awakening – the small boy standing by his bed, red-faced and tear-stained and snuffling. Tony relaxes with a huff. “Christ, kid, you’re gonna give me a heart attack. What’s wrong?”

“Bad men,” Bucky whimpers.

“Where?” Tony looks around sharply, but everything is quiet and still. “For real, or in a dream?”

“Dream,” Bucky admits, and Tony wakes up enough to notice that he’s clutching at his left arm as if it hurts.

He sighs and holds out his arms and Bucky melts into them. “It’s okay. No more bad men,” he promises, gently rubbing Bucky’s back. “We won’t let them have you.”

“C'n I sleep wif you?” Bucky begs.

“Just for a few minutes,” Tony hedges, knowing full well that he’s lying and going to let Bucky stay the night.

***

Tony locks the scan parameters and starts it running, then sits back in his chair and watches, tapping absently at his sternum. As relieved as he was to finally get Bucky to accept Steve as a babysitter so that he could actually get some work done on trying to reverse what’s happened, he has to admit it’s oddly empty in the workshop without Bucky bringing him another lopsided Lego lump every few minutes, or (one time) a flower that Tony can’t figure out where it came from.

The deep scan of the device is going to take at least another hour. Maybe he should just check in on them, see how things are going.

He’s feeling slightly sheepish about it – it’s only been a few hours since he left them at the breakfast table – but the instant the elevator doors open, Bucky’s up like a shot and flinging himself at Tony with a gleeful shout.

He pulls Tony over to the table, which is covered with paper and – it looks like Steve has sacrificed some of his art supplies to the cause. “I drawed you pictures!” Bucky says. “Tony, look!” He clambers up into his chair and scoops up several pieces of paper and shoves them at Tony. “That one is you an’ me!”

Tony’s grateful that Bucky told him that, because they don’t look like people. They look like potatoes with stick arms and awkward hats. “That’s, uh, great, buddy,” he says. He flips through the papers – more potato people, a sort of boxy thing that Tony thinks might be the Tower or possibly a car, and a random scribble that refuses to suggest anything even remotely real. “These are all great,” he lies, though he doesn’t have to fake his smile at Bucky’s obvious delight at the praise. “What did you draw for Steve?”

“Oh, no,” Steve says with a fond smile, “they’re all for you. He’s got a hell of a crush.”

Tony winces, but before he can figure out what to say, Bucky announces, “I hafta go bafroom!”

“You remember where it is?” Steve asks.

“I can do it!” Bucky wriggles back down off his chair and runs down the hall.

Tony sighs. “Steve, I didn’t–”

“Tell me that you’re not feeling guilty that he likes you best,” Steve says, looking amused, “because I’m really not bothered. You’re kind of cute together.”

Tony snorts and doesn’t point out that Steve would probably feel differently if he knew how much Tony wants to be together with the adult version of Bucky.

***

Nearly two weeks later, and they’re still making no progress with the device, and Tony isn’t even pretending to tuck Bucky into his own bed at night anymore, instead bringing him right to Tony’s own room. Tony stretches out on top of the covers and works on a tablet while Bucky sprawls on the other side of the bed, breathing slow and even and shallow.

When Bucky’s breath starts to hitch with a dream, Tony reaches out and rubs his back. “It’s okay, kiddo, you’re safe,” he murmurs.

Bucky jerks awake, tears already starting to form, suddenly panting with fear. “Bad men chasing me,” he sobs. It’s always “bad men,” Tony thinks, and wonders if the nightmares are a leak in Bucky’s hidden memories.

Tony sets the tablet aside and gathers the boy into his arms. Bucky’s arms wrap around Tony’s neck with strength that seems to rival Steve’s. “You’re safe,” Tony promises, kissing Bucky’s hair. “I’m not going to let them have you, not ever.”

“Promise?” Bucky gasps. “Tony, promise?”

“I promise,” Tony says, holding the boy tighter. “You’re safe, I’ll protect you, I love you.” Shit, he hadn’t meant to say that. Well, Bucky probably won’t remember when they get him back, right? Tony buries his face in Bucky’s silky-soft hair with a sigh. “I do, I love you,” he whispers, and warmth suffuses his chest at finally getting to say it aloud, even as his stomach clenches in fear. “You’re brave and strong and loyal and smart and funny and… I love you so much, Bucky, and I’m going to keep you safe, I swear it.”

Bucky snuggles closer and falls asleep with his face pressed into Tony’s neck. Tony starts to pry him off to settle him in his usual spot, but Bucky only clings tighter, whimpering in his sleep, so Tony gives up and falls asleep with Bucky lying on his chest.

***

Tony wakes slowly, to the sensation of Bucky playing with his hair, which is par for the course of the last two weeks. Eyes still closed, Tony mumbles, “We need to teach you how to make coffee, at least, if you’re gonna wake up so early.”

Bucky’s hand, which had inexplicably frozen when Tony started talking, slowly withdraws. “I already know how to make coffee,” he says, and  _that is not a child’s voice_.

Tony’s eyes snap open and sure enough, Bucky is back to being an adult, metal arm and everything. He’d gone to bed wearing a set of adorable Black Widow kiddie pyjamas, and Tony resolutely does not wonder what happened to them, as Bucky’s shoulders and chest are bare above the edge of the blanket.

Tony scrubs at his face with one hand and tries to achieve an expression that is not panicked. “So, uh. You’re probably wondering why you woke up in my bed.”

“Well, at first I thought I’d accidentally gotten into that science-project tequila you and Bruce were cooking up for Steve,” Bucky says, lips curving just slightly toward a smirk, “but I don’t have nearly enough of a hangover for that.”

Tony twitches. “You were not supposed to know about that project,” he protests automatically.

“Please. I knew about it before you finished ordering all the equipment.”

Tony scowls, then sighs. “Well, don’t tell Steve. It’s supposed to be a surprise for his birthday.”

“Who do you think told me about it?”

“Are you  _kidding_? How did he–”

“Natasha.”

Tony stops, then sighs. “Yeah, okay, fine. There are no secrets living in a building with spies. As long as he’ll act surprised.”

“He will. He’s really looking forward to it, actually.”

It’s a weirdly normal conversation to be having, given the circumstances. Tony supposes he should be grateful. He’s the one who’s definitely dressed, though, so he should be the one to get up and go to the bathroom so Bucky can steal a pair of sweats or something and escape.

He sits up and pushes the covers aside, and starts to formulate some mumble about using the loo, when Bucky says, “I remember everything.”

Tony freezes for an instant, then turns away quickly, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. Straight to the workshop it is, then. He’s pretty sure he’s got a change of clothes in there somewhere, it’s not a–

Bucky’s metal fingers close around Tony’s wrist, ever so gently. “Tony.”

_Fuck_. Tony closes his eyes. “Look, this doesn’t have to be weird. I mean, it  _is_  weird, our lives are definitely weird, but it doesn’t have to  _mean_  anything, it can just be, you know, the kind of weird that our lives are, and we can laugh about it and just go back to–”

“I don’t want to go back, Tony.” The blankets rustle softly as Bucky moves, but Tony can’t turn to look, can’t let himself even imagine looking. “I’m hoping you were telling the truth. I’ve loved you for months, you know.”

Tony woke to fingers in his hair, he recalls. Bucky could easily have slipped away while Tony was still asleep, if he’d wanted to.

Tony tugs on his wrist and Bucky releases him immediately. Somehow, Tony knows that if he stands up and walks into the bathroom now, Bucky will be gone when he comes out, and neither of them will ever mention it again. Tony doesn’t move.

After a long moment, a hand closes on Tony’s shoulder, warmth soaking through the thin material of Tony’s pyjamas. Tony turns, finally, and Bucky is there, watching him with the very faintest smile, and a gleam of what looks like hope in his eyes.

“I meant every word,” Tony says, and leans in for a kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Check out this _super-cute_ art](http://imaginetonyandbucky.tumblr.com/post/121761990202/) that [cat-solari](http://cat-solari.tumblr.com/) made to go with this fic! CUTE CUTE CUTE!


	37. 28-May-2015: De-aged Steve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Rating:** T
> 
> **Prompt:**  
>  \- Imagine Steve has been de-aged with magic, and it looks like there's no way to remove the spell. Bucky is devastated, and Tony loves Bucky enough that he'll do anything to prevent him from losing his best friend. So Tony secretly makes a deal with Loki (?) to give Steve all his remaining years. Tony would die instantly, Steve would age back up, and Bucky would get his best friend back... What would happen? -Anonymous
> 
> **Warnings:** None

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I sure do seem to fill a fair number of de-aging prompts...) ;-)

Tony stared into the swirling void.

How could a void swirl? By definition, a void had nothing in it. But this one was definitely swirling.  _God_ , he hated magic. Especially since it had been magic that had turned Steve into a baby. Anyone who thought Steve Rogers would make a plump, cute, happy baby had obviously not spent enough time with him. Steve was colicky and scrawny and screamed bloody murder anytime he wasn’t being held by one of the Avengers, preferably Bucky. It had been a long, long month, and they were still no closer to reversing the spell.

They were getting pretty desperate, in fact, which was why Tony was  _here_ , staring into a swirling void that, by all the laws of science, was impossible, and actually bargaining with some eldritch power instead of just hitting it with a repulsor to the face.

You know, if it actually had a face.

_Time is never lost_ , the thing said.

The sooner this conversation was done, the better. Psychic communication made Tony’s brain itch.

_The years you seek for your friend must be given from those you have to give._

“What about the years that were  _stolen_  from him?” Tony demanded. “What happened to those?”

The thing shrugged, despite not having shoulders or a neck. Tony’s brain itched even more. He wondered how feasible it would be to put a hinge on his skull like the mad scientist in _Nightmare Before Christmas_ , so he could rub at his itching brain.

_They are not lost, but they are not in your possession._

The thing looked hungry. Tony didn’t know how, since he couldn’t look directly at it without feeling the edges of his sanity unravel, but it did. “How do I know you’re not lying?”

_You don’t_.

Well, that was comforting.

Tony stared into the void. Thirty of his own years – and he was honestly surprised he had that many in him, given the way he’d abused his body – and Steve would be back to normal. And Tony would be dead, but there were worse ways to die, probably.

God, Bucky was going to be  _so mad_. They’d been talking about getting married. But Bucky _needed_  Steve, far more than he needed Tony. And Tony needed what was best for Bucky. If that meant the swirling void and Tony’s death, then so be it.

He wished he could kiss Bucky one last time, but if he saw Bucky right now, he’d lose his nerve.

Tony closed his eyes.

The void was still swirling, and the thing still looked hungry. Even with his eyes closed.

It was probably best he didn’t think about it too much.

He took a deep breath, steeled his nerve, and–

“WAIT!”

“HOLD!”

“ _Waaaaaaahhhhhh!_ ”

Tony turned around. Charging toward him were Bucky (and Steve in his carrier), Thor, and… Loki, looking petulant, one slender arm clenched in Thor’s beefy fist.

“This is the only way,” Tony said, holding up his hands defensively. “We’ve tried everything else. This is the only way!”

As soon as he was within reach, Bucky cuffed Tony on the side of the head, and then yanked him into a desperate kiss.

Tony melted into it. It was even better than their very first kiss, which had been so amazing that Tony had invented a brain recorder just to preserve the memory. This one was so wonderful that Tony could even pretend not to hear Loki’s disgusted huff or Steve’s wailing protest at being squashed between them.

When he was finally forced to break away for air, Bucky said, “What the fuck possessed you to take advice from  _Loki_?”

“When my brother confessed the errand he had sent you upon,” Thor put in, “we were filled with dread that you might complete the bargain before we were able to catch you.”

“He wasn’t lying, though,” Tony said. “I made sure of it. This is the only way to get our Steve back.”

“He may not have lied, but he certainly misled. Tell him, brother,” Thor said darkly, shaking Loki’s arm.

Loki sighed, put-upon. “I may have allowed you to believe that you were the only allowable sacrifice,” he admitted.

Tony frowned in confusion. “No, I caught that just fine,” he said. “I’m not  _stupid_.”

Loki made a face that, if he weren’t a two thousand year old demigod with an occasional penchant for murder and mayhem, would best be described as a pout.

Bucky glowered. “If you knew someone else could make the deal, why the hell are  _you_  the one standing here?”

Tony glared right back. “You think I’d let you sacrifice yourself, even for Steve? I know you would, but I’m not–” He choked on the words. “I can’t let you do that, Bucky. I just can’t.”

“For a genius, you’re a real idiot sometimes,” Bucky sighed.

Tony scowled. “Buck–”

“Did you not think I would gladly give up some few paltry decades for our friend?” Thor asked mildly. “I have thousands of years yet to claim; I can far more easily than you replace the thirty stolen from our good Captain.”

Tony stared at him, and Thor looked back, grinning smugly.

“That,” Tony admitted, “I hadn’t considered.”

Bucky pulled Tony back from the edge of the void. “Get out of the way so we can finish this,” he said. “We have a wedding to plan. Even if you  _are_  going to be sleeping on the couch for the next week for this stunt.”

Tony leaned against Bucky’s side and watched as the thing turned its hungry attention to Thor. “A whole week?” he said. “You’re that mad?”

“So very mad,” Bucky said, wrapping an arm around Tony’s shoulders. “You have no idea.”

“Any way I can make it up to you?”

“I might come up with a way for you to reduce your sentence. Time off for good behavior, say.”

“Um, Buck?” Steve asked. “Why am I strapped to your chest and wearing a diaper?”


	38. 3-June-2015: Dance AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Rating:** T
> 
> **Prompt:**  
>  \- Imagine Tony's a world class choreographer, but he hasn't made any new work since his last piece was plagiarised by Stane and Bucky's a dancer who can't get work ever since his arm was removed. They meet at a show and Bucky becomes Tony's muse. -Anonymous
> 
> **Warnings:** None

Tony had almost quit, after Stane. Left the world of dance entirely, and gone on to – who even knew what? Tony certainly didn’t, because Tony couldn’t imagine doing anything that wasn’t dance. He’d hidden away for most of a year, working obsessively, developing some new signature moves and designs that were completely unlike everything Stane had stolen from him, things that no one would be able to associate with that… failure.

(Stane had stolen Tony’s best and most beautiful creation, a story in motion of a phoenix’s tale of rebirth – he’d envisioned costumes of red and gold to evoke the flames – and turned it into a heavy, blocky monstrosity that had more to say about brute strength than the freedom of flight, with more greed and anger in its movements than hope and redemption. But, ugly as it was, it had still had Tony’s fire at its heart, easily recognizable to anyone who’d known him.)

But he was back, now, and working with dancers so skilled that he wanted to weep with joy at every rehearsal. They made every leap and twist seem as effortless as walking, and they were pure emotion on the stage.

Tony went to every show, watching from any vantage point he could get: from just offstage, from every section and level of the floor, from the catwalks, from the sound booth, watching every little thing, even the audience’s reactions.

Which was why he had noticed the ghost.

It wasn’t really a ghost, of course, but a man. Like Tony, he attended every performance – but unlike Tony, he wasn’t part of the crew. Tall and dark and graceful, if oddly balanced, always dressed in a jacket despite the lingering summer weather. He seemed to enjoy the story of the show – smiled and laughed and applauded in all the right places, even on his tenth viewing. But during the dancing, his face went slack, his eyes filled with hunger and longing. Once or twice, Tony saw him shift his shoulders, tip his head, move a hand – sketching from his seat the essence of the steps and gestures of the dancers on the stage.

Tony realized that he was watching the ghost, now, as much as his dancers.

He usually went home immediately after each performance, eager to jot down notes – even on the tenth performance, there were still things he found that should be fixed, or things that inspired improvements and ideas for the next – but this time, Tony slipped backstage, working his way through the throng just in time to see the show’s star, Steve Rogers, emerge from the dressing rooms and immediately pull the ghost into a hug, as if he were a long-lost brother.

Tony managed to watch for a while, until Steve spotted him and called him over. The ghost tried to shrink away, to melt into the background, but Steve refused to lift his arm from the ghost’s shoulders. “Tony,” Rogers said, smiling wider than Tony had ever seen before, “this is my old friend, Bucky. He’s a dancer, too. A really good one.”

“No, I’m… Not anymore, Steve, stop it.” The ghost – Bucky – shoved at Steve, not hard, and didn’t quite meet Tony’s eyes. “Not since the accident,” he mumbled, and lifted a prosthetic hand in explanation, jerky and ungraceful.

“You still dance, of course,” Tony said. He had put his hands on Bucky without even realizing it, already had his jacket half-off, right here in the hallway. “Show me your movement.”

“Tony,” Steve said, a touch reproachfully.

Tony harumphed dismissively at Steve. “You can’t introduce me to someone and tell me they’re a dancer and then tell me I can’t see them dance,” he pointed out absently. He finished pulling the jacket off Bucky’s arms, unveiling the gleaming prosthetic and a t-shirt that was too tight to hide the ripple of muscle across Bucky’s shoulders. Tony waved a hand imperiously. “Go on, show me. Doesn’t have to be fancy, just… anything.”

Bucky’s eyes were round. “You’re Tony Stark,” he whispered.

“I know that,” Tony said tartly. “This isn’t an audition, you don’t have to impress me, I just want to see–”

Bucky moved.

Bucky  _moved_.

From standing still, Bucky drew a heavy breath and flipped backwards and landed in a slow, almost balletic spin. And then he  _danced_ , and it was – it was the Phoenix Rising, as it had been before Stane had stolen and corrupted it. Or–

–well, no, it wasn’t, because Bucky didn’t have any fine control over the prosthetic, so he kept it curled close to his body. The dance had been modified, not as Stane had done, dropping his own ugly gestures onto Tony’s core, but altered and  _reclaimed_.

He only danced out a few measures – there wasn’t space in the hall for more – but it was enough to bring tears to Tony’s eyes. It wasn’t the right dance for Bucky, of course; without his left arm, the balances were all wrong, and the symbolism of the mirrored gestures was lost, but… Light bloomed behind Tony’s eyes, a wealth of color, ribbons of movement describing arcs and shapes that could only be brought to life by the movement of the body before him.

“I need to… Paper, I need, and music, and–” Tony was babbling, but he couldn’t look away, even though Bucky had stopped. Even standing still, staring at Tony in surprise and wonder and a hint of fear, Bucky was still dancing.

Why hadn’t Tony realized it before?

“Get me the director,” Tony snapped. Three swift steps brought him almost nose-to-nose with Bucky, and he looked fiercely into startled grey eyes. “Will you dance?” Tony demanded.

“Will I– Of course, but I don’t–”

That was enough. Tony turned away to face the director, emerging from his office, stonefaced as always. Tony pointed at Bucky. “That one. Next show. I want him.”

The director looked past Tony at Bucky for a long minute. Tony didn’t turn around to see how Bucky reacted to the director’s scrutiny. Then the director looked at Steve. From the corner of his eye, Tony saw Steve’s head tip and eyebrows go up. Finally, the director looked back at Tony. Tony met his gaze steadily, because that was how he dealt with the director. “All right,” the director said laconically, and went back into his office.

“Good,” Tony said. He spun on his heel and pointed at Bucky. “My studio, tomorrow, 8 A.M. Be ready to work. If you know my name, you know what they say about me.”

“I’ll hate you by the end of the first week,” Bucky recited, “and love you by the end of the first month.”

“If you make it that long,” Tony agreed, grinning.

***

The applause was deafening, and along with the rest of the audience, Tony rose from his seat in ovation, eyes wet as he watched his dancers take their bows.

They deserved every moment of adulation, and more. They had all worked hard, and Bucky had been  _incandescent_ , given movements that took advantage of his strengths and used his unique balance to good effect.

Bucky stepped forward and gathered up some of the loose roses that had been thrown onto the stage. He straightened them neatly, and added them to the enormous bouquet in his co-star’s arms, kissing her cheek fondly, to renewed applause.

Then he plucked one back out of the bundle and strode back across the stage. Before Tony could work out what he was doing, Bucky leapt nimbly to the floor and strode forward, dropping elegantly to one knee to offer the rose to Tony, heart in his eyes.


	39. 9-Jun-2015: Princess Bride AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Rating:** G  
>  **Prompt:**  
>  \- IMAGINE A PRINCESS BRIDE AU WHERE TONY IS PRINCESS BUTTERCUP AND BUCKY IS WESTLEY/DREAD PIRATE ROGERS. -surround-stark  
> \- imagine tony and bucky in a princess bride au (winter soldier as dread pirate roberts, etc.) ps. absolutely love the site, you guys are all amazing!! -Anonymous  
>  **Warnings:** None

~~Buttercup~~ Tony Stark lived in a magnificent ~~castle~~ tower with his ~~fiancé~~ chief advisor, ~~Prince Humperdinck~~ Obadiah Stane, who kept him around because he was the ~~most beautiful~~ smartest princess in the whole world. Tony’s only joy was in his daily ~~ride~~ flight in his favorite armor.

***

“Excuse me?” Tony turned to see three figures before him. The one who’d spoken was near Tony’s size, actually, but was dwarfed by the other two: a man in a bright, spangly outfit carrying a ~~sword~~ shield, and an enormous green monster, twice as tall as Tony and at least three times as wide. “We are but poor lost circus performers. Is there a village nearby?”

The guy was smarmy, with a smile that Tony immediately hated. “There is nothing nearby except this doughnut shop. Why do you think I’m here?”

The smarmy guy grinned even wider. “Good. Then there will be no one to hear you scream.” He gestured. “ ~~Fezzik~~ Hulk, grab him.”

Tony spun around, but too late: the green monster’s fist closed on him, and the spangly man swung his shield, and everything went dark.

***

“Are you sure no one can follow us?” ~~Inigo~~ Steve said.

“It would be absolutely, totally, and in all other ways inconceivable,” ~~Vizzini~~ Justin Hammer said confidently. After a pause he said, “Why do you ask?”

Steve exchanged glances with Hulk. “I just happened to look, and something is there.”

“What?” Hammer shrieked. He ran to the rail and squinted through the darkness. “Probably just some local fisherman out at night. For a pleasure cruise. Through… eel-infested waters.” He didn’t sound as confident any more.

A splash caught their attention, and they ran to the other side of the ship to see Tony swimming determinedly away from them.

“AH! Go in, get after him!” Hammer snapped at Steve.

“I don’t swim,” Steve lied. Hammer was a douche, and he was beginning to admire Tony’s feisty attitude.

“Hulk only dog-paddle,” Hulk confessed.

“Gah!”

***

“Why are you wearing that ~~mask~~ muzzle?” Steve asked the man in black. “Were you burned in acid or something like that?”

“No, they’re just terribly comfortable,” the man in black replied. “I expect everyone will be wearing them in the future.”

Another long, uncomfortable moment passed. “I don’t mean to pry,” Steve said, “but you don’t happen to have six fingers on your right hand?”

The man in black stared at him for a moment, then held up his right hand, fingers spread to show its five fingers.

“Ah,” Steve said, sagging a little with disappointment, even though he hadn’t actually had much hope. “My ~~father~~ best friend was slaughtered by a six-fingered man.”

***

“Oh, good. Hulk way. …What Hulk way?”

Hammer pinched the bridge of his nose as if he had a headache. Tony, bound and gagged, still managed a smirk. “Pick up one of those rocks,” Hammer told Hulk, not terribly patiently, “and hide behind that boulder. In a few minutes, the man in black will come around that bend. The minute his head is in view, _hit it with the rock_!”

He stomped on up the path, dragging Tony behind him.

Hulk picked up the rock and stared at it forlornly. “Hulk way not very sportsmanlike.”

***

The instant Tony’s hands were freed, he yanked off the blindfold with one and pulled the gag from his mouth with the other. His ears  _ hadn’t _ been deceiving him: Hammer laid crumpled on the ground, face still contorted with his infuriating smarmy grin. Tony kicked him for good measure before turning to look at his savior.

Or alternate kidnapper. He wasn’t entirely sure.

“So, all that time it was your cup that was poisoned,” he said, having kept track of the twists and turns of the conversation for lack of anything better to do.

The man in black snorted. “They were both poisoned,” he said. “My serum makes me immune to iocane powder.”

***

It took them three days to traverse the length of the fire swamp. During those three days, Tony and the man in black, whose name was  ~~ Westley ~~ Bucky, fell madly in love.

***

“Will you promise not to hurt him?” Tony interrupted.

“What?” Obadiah said.

“What?” Bucky said.

“If I come back with you, and build your bombs,” Tony said, refusing to look at Bucky, “will you promise not to hurt him?”

“Yes,” Obadiah said.

“He is a sailor on the pirate ship ~~Revenge~~ _Howling Commando_. Promise you’ll return him to his ship!”

“You have my word,” Obadiah promised. He sheathed his sword. While Tony was distracted with his farewells, he murmured to ~~Count Rugen~~ Rumlow, “Once we’re out of sight, I want you to throw him in the Pit of Despair.”

“The chair?” Rumlow muttered, eyes lighting.

“The chair,” Obadiah confirmed. He caught up the reins of Tony’s horse and led it away.

“Well, let’s get you to your ship,” Rumlow told Bucky.

Bucky looked at Rumlow. “We are men of action. Lies do not become us.”

Rumlow grunted and gestured to his guards, and they moved to bind the man in black.

“You have six fingers on your right hand,” Bucky observed. “Someone was looking for you.”

***

“It comes to this,” Tony said, bursting into the room. “I know now that I love Bucky, and I always will. And I promised him, no more weapons.”

Obadiah took a deep breath, let it out slowly. “Tony. It’s just… You _left_ him, in the fire swamp. He’s probably forgotten all about you.” He cast a look at Rumlow, who grimaced and backed out of the room.

“Bucky would never forget me,” Tony said certainly. “If you insist on this whole bomb thing, then you need to know I’m going to be gone by morning.”

Obadiah sighed again. “Look. Have a piece of pizza. Let’s… let’s make a deal. I’ll send out my four fastest ships, one in each direction. The Howling Commandos are always nearby this time of year. If Bucky wants you, then bless you both. If not… Please consider working for me as an alternative to starving to death in an alley?”

***

The sound was terrible.

Steve lifted his head, listening. “That is the sound of ultimate suffering. My heart made that sound the day Rumlow murdered Bucky; the man in black makes it now.”

Hulk made an inquisitive grunt.

“His true love is signing another’s contract tonight. Who else has cause for ultimate suffering? Come on!”

***

“He’s been wiped.”

“ _Wait! Wait, wait, wait. What do you mean, wiped? Bucky can’t be wiped! He has to save Tony, I’m sure of it! And Steve doesn’t even know yet, and… Who kills Obie?”_

“ _What?”_

“ _WHO KILLS OBIE? Is it Hulk? Who?!”_

***

“This is noble!” Steve promised. “His wife is sick, his kids–”

Miracle ~~Max~~ Loki snorted. “Are _you_ a rotten liar. I’ll ask him.”

“How can you ask him? He’s wiped. He doesn’t remember anything.”

“Oh, look who knows so much,” Loki tutted, poking and prodding at the man in black’s chest and looking into his vacant eyes. “It just so happens that your friend here is only _mostly_ wiped.” He leaned down and shouted into the pirate’s ear. “What’s so important? What have you that is worth living for?”

Steve frowned. This miracle man seemed to have very unorthodox methods.

After a minute, the man in black breathed, “True love…”

“There!” Steve said triumphantly. “True love! You cannot ask for a more noble cause than that!”

“Son, true love is the greatest thing in the world,” Loki said, “but that’s not what he said! He distinctly said–”

A door on the far side of the room crashed open like the sound of thunder. “Liar!” bellowed a voice. “Liar!”

Loki’s eyes widened and he waved his hands frantically. “Get back, witch!”

“I’m not a witch; I’m your brother!” the massive blonde snapped. “But after such treachery, I’m not sure I wish to be so named!”

“Don’t say another word, Thor!”

“ _True love_ , Loki, he said _true love_!”

The pair squabbled like an old married couple, and Steve looked between them in bewilderment until finally one word caught his ear and filled it with hope.

“This is Tony Stark’s true love,” he interjected loudly, not shrinking as both men turned to stare at him. “If you help me recover his memories, he will stop Tony from signing Stane’s contract, and Stane’s empire will crumble into chaos.”

Loki leaned closer. “I fix your friend’s memories, and Stane falls into chaos?”

“Chaos galore,” Steve promised.

Loki’s lips curved into a grin. “Now _that_ is a worthy cause. Give me the sixty-five; I’m on the job!”

***

“Give me the gate key,” Steve said calmly.

~~Yellin~~ Trevor Slattery squared his shoulders. “I have no gate key.”

“Hulk,” Steve said, still calmly, “tear his arms off.”

“Oh, you mean this gate key.”

***

“HELLO! MY NAME IS STEPHEN ROGERS! YOU KILLED MY BEST FRIEND! PREPARE TO DIE!”

“Stop saying that!”

Steve backed Rumlow into the corner and kicked the sword from his hand. “Offer me money,” he demanded.

“Yes!” Rumlow promised.

“Power, too. Promise me that!” Steve snarled.

“Yes!” Rumlow agreed.

“Offer me everything I ask for,” Steve challenged, backing away and lifting his shield over his head.

“Anything you want,” Rumlow snarled, and stabbed at Steve with his knife.

Steve caught Rumlow’s attack in an immoveable fist. “ _I want my Bucky back, you son of a bitch_ ,” Steve hissed, and smashed the shield into Rumlow’s skull.

***

Tony tore off Bucky’s facemask and kissed him deliriously. “Bucky, will you ever forgive me?”

“What hideous sin have you committed lately?” Bucky asked, fond.

“I signed Obie’s weapons contract.”

“Never happened.”

“Yes, it did. I was there. This old man said ‘signed and sealed.’”

“Did you get it notarized?”

“…No,” Tony admitted. “We sort of skipped that part.”

“Then it didn’t happen.” Bucky said. “If they can’t prove it was you, it’s not legally binding. Isn’t that right, Mr. Stane?”

“A technicality that will shortly be remedied,” Obadiah said, stepping into the room and drawing his sword. “But first things first. To the death!” He drew his sword.

“No,” Bucky said firmly. “To the pain.”

[A/N: The “to the pain” speech is more or less entirely like the movie, so I won’t bother to copy it. Just imagine it here.]

“Tie him up. Make it as tight as you like.”

“There you are,” Steve said with a sigh of relief, rounding the corner. “Where’s Hul– _Bucky_?”

Bucky’s eyes widened and he lifted a hand to touch his uncovered face. “Uh, hey Steve.”

“Why didn’t you _say_ something? We’ve been running around all night–”

“I was gonna! Just that miracle pill brought my memories back kinda slow, and by the time I realized I knew you, we’d already gone our separate ways!”

“…I guess that makes sense.”

“Shut up and give me a hug, punk.”

“You big jerk.”

Tony finished writing the flourishing lines of a note explaining Stane’s embezzlement and perfidy, and propped it on the desk next to the struggling man. “If you two are done with the tearful reunions,” he said, “any suggestions on how we’re going to get out of here, past all the guards?”

“STEVE! STEVE!”

The three men exchanged glances, then went to the window. Hulk looked up with a grin. “There you are!” he bellowed happily. “Steve! Hulk find horses!”

***

As dawn arose, Tony and Bucky knew they were safe, and a wave of love swept over them. And as–

“ _What? Why’d you stop?”_

“ _Nah, it’s kissing again. You don’t want to hear that part.”_

“ _You got_ that _right. I see enough of that in real life, I don’t need to hear about them doing it in a story, too. So gross.”_

“ _Someday, you may not mind so much.”_

“ _Yeah, whatever. …Thanks for reading to me, Uncle Clint.”_

“ _Any time, kid. Now you need to get to sleep, or your dads are going to never let me babysit again.”_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...with apologies to _The Princess Bride_. :)


	40. 13-Jun-2015: Sex Pollen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Rating:** T  
>  **Prompt:**  
>  \- Hi, I am really enjoying this pairing, I am starting to become entranced. :D I know that sex pollen has been done a lot but I have a twist. Bucky, and Tony aren't really into each other, or more like that can't reach anywhere past their distrust. The team runs into sex pollen, spell etc. Bucky peels Ironman out of his armor and they have raunchy life affirming sex. They form an intense connection neither one knows exactly what to do with. The romance and friendship follow in fits and starts. -Anonymous  
>  **Warnings:** None

It wasn’t like Tony and Bucky were the only ones who’d been caught up in the Incident. The whole team had been there, and even the ones lucky enough to have significant others hadn’t been standing together when the spell had hit, and so they were all studiously avoiding eye contact with at least one other person, and some of them were avoiding  _everyone_.

Tony was actually avoiding  _Steve_ , because there was no way that Steve was going to forgive him for molesting Steve’s best friend, even if Bucky had been the one to rip Tony’s armor off. Which, Tony had to admit, was just as insanely hot in memory as it had been under the influence of the spell.

Which was the sort of observation that was always sneaking through Tony’s brain-to-mouth filter, and therefore the precise reason why Tony needed to avoid Steve. Granted, Steve was probably too busy trying to avoid Rhodey to go to the trouble of hunting down Tony, but still, better safe than sorry. Tony had made his way up to the roof, because Tony almost never went up to the roof, so if Steve was going to be looking for Tony to bitch him out, then the roof was probably the last place Steve would look. (Hey, Tony could strategize when it was important.)

He hadn’t quite counted on running into Bucky up there, though. “…Oh,” he said, stumbling to a halt.

Bucky didn’t move from where he was leaning against the safety wall and looking out over the city. “Hey.”

“I can go. If you’d rather I– I mean, not that there was anything  _wrong_ with– I just meant that if you’re–”

“It’s fine, you can stay,” Bucky said. “Unless I’m the one you’re avoiding, I guess.”

“Nah, we’re good,” Tony said, walking over to join him. “External forces, redirection of inhibitory impulses, blah blah. Could’ve been a lot worse things for the Villain of the Week to make us all do to each other. And you performed incredibly well under fire, I have to say, so.”

Bucky shot him a glance, then looked back out at the city lights. “Yeah?”

“Oh, hell yeah. I’ve already had FRIDAY section off some of the security feed to my personal library for future review, if you know what I mean.” Tony coughed. Steve would have given him The Look for that, probably. Bucky, on the other hand, snorted and then smiled, just a bit, which was… encouraging. “So, uh,” Tony said, “if you wanted to go again sometime – with, y'know, full agency and consent and everything – I wouldn’t be opposed.”

Bucky kept his eyes on the city, but his smile grew into a full-on smirk. It was close cousin to the sneer he used when he was about to unleash the Winter Soldier on some unsuspecting bad guys, so Tony probably shouldn’t have found it quite so pants-tighteningly hot, but, well, what could you do? “I’ll keep that in mind,” Bucky promised.

***

“So, are you two dating now, or what?”

“What? No! Christ. It’s just sex. Stress relief.”

“You need stress relief every single night you’re both in residence?”

“We both have very stressful lives. And it’s not just any old sex.”

“That’s what I’m–”

“It is mind-blowingly, life-affirmingly  _amazing_ sex. The things he can do with his tongue? Jesus Christ.”

“I don’t need to hear this.”

“Also, that ass. Have you seen that man’s ass? Damn right I’m going to take every chance I can get to put my hands on that ass.”

“Really,  _really_ don’t want to hear this.”

“You started it.”

“You’ve come down to breakfast together three mornings of the last four. I thought I should check.”

“That many?”

“Yes.”

“…Huh. Well. I mean. After sex  _that_ good, it’s hard to summon the energy to fuck off back to my own room. Plus sometimes my ass is too sore to walk after being jammed full of his–”

“Never mind, shut up, I’m sorry I asked!”

***

When Tony got his breath back, he said, “Hey, can I ask a question?”

“If it’s whether I can go again, the answer is no.” Bucky was still gasping for air. To be fair, he’d been doing most of the work.

“Are we dating?”

“Are we–” Bucky rolled onto his side to stare at Tony in patent disbelief. “Why would you ask me that?”

“…Because I don’t know?” Bucky’s eyes were narrowing dangerously, and Tony held up his hands defensively. “Look, I’m trying, I am, I just don’t– I’m  _asking_ , instead of making assumptions or just trying to fake it, because I really want to know!”

“Tony, how could you  _not know_?”

“Because we have this fantastic sex but we don’t really do anything together but we sleep together every night but we only– Wait, where are you going?”

Bucky just glared at him and stamped into the bathroom.

“Damn it, Bucky, don’t just walk away! I’m doing my goddamn best, and you’re–” The door slammed shut, leaving Tony to seethe. And worry. Shit. This was why he usually just faked it. And on top of it all, he  _still_ didn’t know the answer.

On the other hand, if they  _were_ dating, he supposed they’d just jumped that “first fight” hurdle.

***

“I need advice.”

“You need to keep your guard up a little higher when–”

“No, I mean, like… Sorta… Romantic advice.”

“…You’re asking  _me_?”

“Don’t make fun.”

“I’m not, I’m just… What’s the problem?”

“I fucked up. Kinda bad. I need to know how to apologize.”

“With you two? I’m guessing a blowjob and a new toy, but I swear to god I don’t want to know how it goes.”

“Ha-ha, very funny. Fine, I’ll just–”

“No, no, come back, I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to be an ass, I swear. What happened?”

“Apparently, we’re… dating.”

“…”

“…You don’t look surprised.”

“Literally  _no one_ in this building – no one in  _New York_ – is surprised by that. Except maybe the two of you.”

“What do I do?”

“Well, do you want to date him?”

“Yeah, I really do.”

“Does he want to date you?”

“I… think so?”

“In that case, I’m gonna suggest something kind of crazy and radical. But I think you can manage it.”

“What?”

“Listen carefully: Take him out. On. An actual. Date.”

***

Bucky paused to shake a cramp out of his hand. “Why are we doing this the hard way?” he demanded. “Can’t you just hire someone for this part?”

Tony looked up with a grin. “I asked Pepper that exact question. Do you want to know what she said?”

“Probably not.”

“She gave me that really dangerous look – the one that makes me think she’s going to kill me and leave me folded up in Clint’s arrow locker with a Louboutin through my heart – and said, ‘Just. Do. It.’ And then she threatened to have FRIDAY rat me out if anyone but you or me laid so much as a hand on the job.”

“Sorry boss,” FRIDAY put in, not sounding the least bit ashamed of herself. “But ye did give Ms. Potts command an’ control for the whole show.”

“Traitor,” Tony muttered absently. “Should’ve given the job to Natasha instead.”

“Are you out of your mind?” Bucky asked. “She’d be even worse.”

“Maybe,” Tony said. “Or maybe she’d have let us sneak out the back door and elope three months ago.”

“Just keep addressing those invitations,” Bucky advised.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Tony sighed, bending back to his task. It wasn’t so bad, really. They each had a pile of invitations to address, but they were tucked up on their bed with lap desks, shoulder to shoulder, egging each other on with promises of kisses after every ten finished envelopes – well, maybe after every five. There were worse ways to spend an evening than in preparations for a wedding.

“Who’s this?” Bucky asked, interrupting Tony’s train of thought.

Tony leaned over to look at the name on the list, and started cackling. “That one’s a joke,” he promised. “It’s the guy who caused the Incident.”

Bucky just looked at him. “What incident? I’ve been on this team for five years now, there have been a  _lot_ of incidents.”

“ _The_ Incident,” Tony said. “Three years ago. The one where we, uh. Got together. The first time.”

Bucky’s expression was blank for another moment, and then he started chuckling, too. “Oh,  _that_ Incident. It took  _weeks_ to get everyone to stop avoiding each other. Yeah, he’s not invited.” He crossed the name out and moved on to the next. “We should totally send him a picture, though,” he said as he wrote.

“Mm?”

“Oh, yeah. I mean, just so he’ll know it wasn’t entirely a waste. A really nice portrait of the two of us. And maybe another of our best men. You think we’ll be able to get Steve and Rhodey to stand for a picture together?”

Tony threw his head back in laughter. “That sense of humor,” he wheezed, “is why I love you.”

Bucky smirked. “That, and the awesome sex, of course.”

“Well, that goes without saying.”


	41. 21-Jun-2015: Beach Honeymoon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Rating:** T  
>  **Prompt:**  
>  \- I have my prompt! Imagine Tony and Bucky at the beach. Sand in the arm, sharing ice cream, all the cuteness of Tony making Bucky comfortable without a shirt on-whatever you think fits this! Thanks so much, and I adore this blog!. -realcanadianconsultant  
>  **Warnings:** None

"You’re not peeking, are you?"

Bucky sighed and held up his hands to demonstrate that he wasn’t messing with the blindfold. "No, I’m not peeking."

The quinjet touched down with barely a bump and Tony’s hands swept over the board automatically, putting systems to sleep. "You’ll never guess," he said gleefully as he unstrapped from the pilot’s chair and moved to stand in front of Bucky’s seat.

"Somewhere tropical," Bucky said. "I can feel the heat seeping in through the window already. Am I going to be spending the next two weeks hacking my way through some jungle with a machete, like Indiana Jones?"

"No," Tony promised, "but that is a gorgeous visual; remind me to add it to the list of future possibilities. At the very least, I need to see you in that costume. We’ll get you a Stetson and a good braided-leather whip."

"You know, if you want to start exploring kink, you can just ask." Bucky grinned at Tony’s sudden choke.

"That’s it, I’m cutting off your internet," Tony chided, even as he took Bucky’s hands to help him out of his seat and lead him to the door hatch. "You’re going to give me a heart attack at this rate, and then where will you be?"

"I’m still young and beautiful. It wouldn’t be that hard to bag another wealthy boyfriend. Or girlfriend," Bucky added thoughtfully. "Didn’t you say Pepper really likes backrubs?"

"Okay, first of all, your taste is impeccable, I cannot fault you there. But secondly, do not ever, ever, _ever_ suggest such a thing to me again. Oh my god."

Bucky chuckled and reached out, hands finding Tony’s waist and neck unerringly despite the blindfold. He pulled Tony in and kissed him thoroughly, interrupting Tony’s every attempt to pull away or speak with another filthy onslaught of lips and tongue, until they were both panting for breath. "God, I love you," Bucky sighed finally, resting his forehead against Tony’s as his fingers toyed idly with the hair at the nape of Tony’s neck.

Tony hummed and traced the edge of the blindfold where it lay against Bucky’s cheek. "Love you too."

Eventually, Bucky pulled away, shaking himself. "All right, show me what you decided on, then."

Tony smacked the button to open the hatch, positioned Bucky in the doorway, and then whipped the blindfold off with a flourish.

Bucky blinked rapidly in the glaring light and squinted into the view. Tony held his breath and tried not to shift nervously. "Tony," Bucky said, soft and even, not turning to look at him, "when you said you wanted to do the planning for this–"

"In my defense–"

"–I only had one request."

"I know."

"You remember what I said, right?"

"Yes, of course I–"

"Because I distinctly remember saying _no beaches_ –"

"No, you said you didn’t want to go to _Hawai'i_ , this is definitely not–"

"–and this looks a lot like a beach to me, Tony." Bucky covered his face with his human hand. "Tell me this is one of your jokes."

"Just listen, okay?" Tony said, holding up his hands beseechingly even though Bucky still wasn’t looking at him. "I knew you weren’t keen on the idea, and there are five different five-star hotels on standby all over the world if you’re that determined, and we can get right back on the jet and go to any one of them if you insist. But I really think you’ll like this. I’m just asking you to give it one day, and then if you still hate it, I’ll take you anywhere you want to go. Please."

Bucky took a deep breath and finally turned to look directly at Tony, dubious.

"For me," Tony added.

Bucky’s expression softened and he pulled Tony back into his arms with a huff. "One day," he agreed. "You’re lucky you’re cute."

Tony sighed with relief and caught up Bucky’s hand to lead him from the tiny private airstrip to the waiting villa. A bit of a rocky start had been inevitable, he reminded himself. The rest of their honeymoon was going to be _perfect_.

***

The villa itself was surprisingly small and cozy: two bedrooms with en-suite bathrooms, a fully-stocked kitchen, and a sitting room that opened onto a broad veranda with an ocean view. The veranda boasted a fire pit, a table and an assortment of chairs, umbrellas for shade, and steps that led down to a rocky beach with turquoise water, a gorgeous view that made Tony’s chest ache. The place had changed very little since he had last seen it.

"So I asked myself," Tony said sincerely, "why anyone might not want to go to the beach. And my first thought, honestly, was that maybe they just hate beautiful things. But that can’t be your excuse; you married _me_ , after all–"

"Tony." Bucky’s tone was repressive, but his lips twitched as if they were trying to avoid a smile.

"Then I thought, well, maybe they don’t like all the heat. That’s fair, the best beaches tend to be tropical, and the sun can be a bit much. Though I’m not sure that applies to you or Cap, you two _love_ the heat, you’re like cats, apparently the serum turned both of you into fluffy kittens."

Bucky’s eyebrows went up, and Tony backtracked. "Did I say kittens? I meant sleek and deadly jungle predators. Sleek, sexy predators. Who love heat." Bucky rolled his eyes and Tony grinned. "But just in case: the villa is climate controlled, if you get hot, just come inside and it can be like early spring."

"I don’t mind the heat," Bucky allowed, "as long as I’m not having to tromp around in black leather, anyway."

"Then I thought, well, maybe they don’t care for seafood – no, don’t make that face, I was watching when we made you try sushi, you hated it –"

"I kind of hated it," Bucky admitted. "But I’m fine with _normal_ fish and stuff that’s been  _cooked_ like _normal_ people eat their seafood."

"Philistine," Tony teased. "But the kitchen is fully stocked, I made sure of it, so there’s chicken and beef and fruits and vegetables. There’s a restaurant up the road that will deliver whatever you want."

"I’m not that worried about finding things to eat," Bucky said.

"And if it’s that you just don’t want to sit around relaxing all day – in which case what even is _wrong_ with you – there’s lots to do. I mean, aside from the obvious, honeymoon-mandatory activities, which are going to eat up a lot of time to begin with, let’s make _that_ clear, and this isn’t really a volleyball kind of beach, but there’s jet skis and parasailing and–"

"I can’t swim."

"–could charter a fishing boat if you really wanted, but we were talking about _not_ being bored, so wait, run that by me again?"

Bucky took a breath and turned away from Tony to look out at the sparkling expanse of water. "I can’t swim."

"You can’t–" Tony’s brain was whirling too fast to actually function. "Okay, city boy, sure, but it’s not that hard, I could teach you the basics in like an hour."

"I know _how_ ," Bucky said, only a touch impatiently. "I just _can’t_. Not enough fat to float properly to begin with – Steve can swim if he has to, but it’s as much a fight to stay on top of the water as it is to move through it – but then add in the arm and I’m basically just an anchor that flails a lot."

Tony stared at him. "That… never occurred to me," he admitted. It should have, he chided himself. The arm was _ridiculously_ heavy; if Bucky hadn’t had that knockoff serum, the thing would have been crippling, even with the upgrades Tony had given it over the years. He crossed his arms and stared down at the floor in front of his feet, fingers tapping.

Bucky’s arms wrapped around him from behind. "It was a good thought," he said reassuringly. "I’m not upset. You worked hard, you did great. It was a good attempt. But now you see why it just won’t work. So we can grab a meal and stretch our legs, and then–"

"Hey," Tony said. "You promised me a day."

"Tony…"

"One day," Tony repeated. He turned in Bucky’s arms and wrapped his arms around Bucky’s neck. "Are you, or are you not, newly married to the world’s foremost mechanical engineer?"

"That’s the rumor," Bucky agreed, lips quirking in a half-smile.

Tony leaned in and kissed the corner of that mouth. "Then you give me the day you promised and I’ll find a way to make up for the arm’s drag, at least."

"You think?"

"Absolutely."

Bucky looked at Tony for a long moment, then looked out at the water again, thoughtful. "It  _is_ a really gorgeous view," he said.

"Yeah," Tony agreed. He leaned in to kiss Bucky again. "Let’s go see what the view is like from the bedroom."

***

The beach was mostly rocks, but a path had been built through them that led down to the thin strip of sand by the water. Bucky watched the waves lap while Tony rolled up his sleeve to fidget with his arm. Tony wasn’t sure what he was thinking – he’d been quiet for much of the day, though no less attentive and loving than usual. "I’m really not sure it’s worth you going to all this trouble," Bucky finally said.

Tony lifted an eyebrow. "You’re not looking at the big picture, obviously, because one, this arm gives me a techno-boner you can see from near-Earth orbit; playing with it will never not be fun for me. And two, I would go to far more trouble than this in order to allow my gorgeous new husband to cavort with me half-naked in the water."

"Did you just use the word ‘cavort’ unironically?" Bucky sounded amused, which was an improvement on reluctant and uneasy.

"You’re failing to focus on the more important part of that sentence, which was 'half-naked’. What’s with the shirt?" Tony plucked at the baggy cover-up hanging on Bucky’s frame.

"I don’t want to burn."

"I used to think Steve Rogers was the worst liar I had ever met. C'mon, Bucko, I can’t be filling the entire nakedness quota on my own."

Bucky snorted. "Pretty sure you’ll find a way."

"I like that you’re not questioning that there is a nakedness quota," Tony observed. "I have taught you well. Also, I _have_ found a way, and that way involves you taking off your shirt. Let’s go, hop to it."

Bucky caught Tony’s hand where it was working up the hem of the shirt. "Tony, no one needs to see this."

"Incorrect: _I_ need to see it. I _have_ seen it, I have seen it numerous times, I saw it like _two hours ago_ ; why are you shy about it all of a sudden?"

"You’ve seen it in the privacy of our own bedroom," Bucky argued. "Or your workshop. Medical, once or twice. But not out… here, where just anyone could come along!"

Tony pointedly looked up and down the expanse of completely-deserted beach. "I think we’ll see 'em coming, tiger," he said drily. "It’s a private beach. I suppose it’s possible someone could stumble into us, but if they do, they’re likely to be having bigger problems than having to decide which of our scars are more badass."

"Why are you being such a bitch about this?" Bucky demanded.

"Because it’s time to go test your arm and see if I fixed the buoyancy problem."

"Already?"

"I told you it wouldn’t take long. I mean, it’s a temporary fix so it’ll will only work to ten feet or so; it’s not going to adjust with the pressure changes as you get deeper, but it should be fine for body surfing and dog-paddling if you fall off a boat or something." Bucky was looking apprehensive again, so Tony captured his chin and pulled his face around for a quick, almost chaste kiss. "I promise, you’ll be fine. We’ll test it out in the shallow water first so if it doesn’t work the way it should – and it’ll be fine, my math is perfect, but _just in case_ – all you have to do is just stand up."

Bucky finally gave in and pulled his shirt off, even smiled a little at Tony’s exaggerated leering, and let Tony lead him into the surf.

It was up to his thighs, swells reaching up over his hips, when he looked back out to the endless horizon, his grey steel eyes going dark, and said, "Steve got lost in water like this."

_Oh_. Tony cursed inwardly. He hadn’t realized that Bucky had internalized the trauma of _Steve’s_ crash landing in the Arctic. If he’d known, he might have– Well, he’d still have planned this, to be honest, but he might’ve approached it with a little more care.

Tony wrapped an arm around Bucky’s waist and hooked a thumb into the waistband of his swimsuit. "I promise, babe, that water was _nothing_ like this water – you know, aside from some base chemical– Nevermind. The point is, that water was only a handful of degrees from being frozen – _would_ have been frozen if it had been fresh water rather than salt – and he went into shock too fast to make his way clear of the wreckage. Even super-serum and determination can only do so much. This water is barely cooler than body temperature. If Steve had dropped the _Valkyrie_ into _this_ water, he would’ve bottomed it and then swum back to the surface, the stubborn bastard."

Bucky glanced at him sidelong. "You think?"

"The man had a date lined up with _Peggy Carter_ ," Tony pointed out. "Pretty sure if there was any way on earth he could make it, he would have."

"Point," Bucky conceded, but his eyes were still on the horizon.

Tony watched him for a moment, then said, "There’s one other thing we could do."

"What’s that?"

Tony dropped fast, yanking Bucky’s swim trunks down with him. "Pantsed!" he yelled, and then dove away from Bucky’s shout of surprise and swinging grab, swimming hard and laughing as Bucky flailed between giving immediate chase and getting his trunks back on first.

When Bucky caught him, the water was over their shoulders, lifting and lowering them gently with each cresting swell. They shouted and wrestled and tickled until Tony finally called for a truce, sputtering from surprise mouthfuls of water and panting with exertion.

Bucky looked down at his metal arm, just under the water and gleaming in the late afternoon light. "Seems to work, whatever you did," he said.

Tony wrapped his arms around Bucky’s neck and his legs around Bucky’s waist, the water making it easy. "Told you my math was good," he said smugly.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." Bucky rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. "Arrogant so-and-so."

"Yeah, but you married me anyway."

"Damn right I did." Bucky kissed him, and Tony melted into it, all but purring at the taste of ocean salt on Bucky’s mouth and the wicked tease of Bucky’s tongue and the feel of Bucky’s body pressed against his, lean and hard (and getting harder by the second). "You _did_ say private beach, didn’t you?" Bucky rumbled into Tony’s neck.

***

Tony shut off the blender and poured the frozen concoction into the waiting glasses. He carried the glasses out to the veranda and handed one to Bucky, who took it with a smile of thanks. "So," he said, settling into his own lounge chair next to Bucky’s. "That was one day. And a little more, even. So, what do you think?"

"I think you’re a brat who can’t follow simple directions," Bucky said, but he was using his drink to cover a smile.

"By which you mean I was totally right," Tony said.

Bucky sighed, put-upon, and Tony fist-pumped in victory.

"Brat," Bucky reiterated, even as he reached across the space between their chairs to twine their fingers together. He sipped his drink and watched the clouds sliding across the sky. "I kinda have to know why, though. Million different possibilities, and you had to pick the _one thing_ I asked to avoid? Why?"

Tony sighed. "The real deal?"

"Yeah." Bucky’s thumb stroked over Tony’s knuckles, back and forth. "Obviously, this was important enough to you to make you ignore my request. I want to know why."

"It’s kind of stupid," Tony hedged.

"I’m not going to laugh at you," Bucky said patiently. Damn it, he had all of Tony’s tells down cold now. It was a good thing they were already married.

"It’s just… Dad used to… You know how I get when I’m really on a project?"

Bucky snorted. "You mean the whole barely-sleeping, eating standing up in your lab, monosyllabic conversation for days on end thing? Yeah, I have some idea."

Tony squeezed Bucky’s hand a little, and looked up at the sky. "Dad’s spells were… a little different. He’d get wrapped up in something and he didn’t want anyone to even come near him who wasn’t part of the project. Not me, not Mom, not Jarvis or Anna, not even Aunt Peggy. If you weren’t there to help, you were, at best, a nuisance. At worst…" Tony broke off with a shrug. Bucky knew enough by now not to need specifics. "Mom’s way of dealing with it was to just get out of the house. Take a vacation for a few weeks, and come home when he was done with whatever it was.

"For a couple of years there, when I was five or six, old enough to be out of diapers but not big enough yet for boarding school, she took me with her. And most of the time, this is where she came." Tony rubbed his fingers thoughtfully along the armrest of his chair.

"This actual house?" Bucky asked.

Tony nodded. "It’s not a Stark property, so the press didn’t stalk it – they weren’t _quite_ as rabid back then about celebrity news as they are now. It belonged to a friend of hers, Lucia Firenza, from before she met my dad, who’d given Mom a standing invitation to come whenever, stay as long as she wanted. Belongs to Lucia’s son, now, and the standing invitation’s not a thing anymore, but he was amenable enough when I looked him up to ask about renting it.

"I loved this place. Mom always seemed happier here, more relaxed. It all sort of blurs together, but I can remember standing out here on this veranda once, right over there." Tony pointed toward the fire pit. "We were roasting marshmallows, and Signora Lucia was with us, and she and Mom were talking about someone else they knew who’d just gotten married, and what they were doing for their honeymoon, and I decided that when I got married, the only place I ever wanted to go for the honeymoon – not that I knew what that really meant at the time – was here."

He shrugged, watching the sky. "It’s dumb, like I said. It’s just one of those memories that–" He broke off, his lap suddenly full of Bucky. "Uh."

Bucky took the melting drink from Tony’s hand and set it on the table, then kissed him, slow and sweet. "Should’ve led with that, idiot," Bucky said fondly. "I wouldn’t have argued it if I’d known."

Tony’s throat felt tight, and he had to swallow a few times before he could speak. "Yeah? Even though–"

"It’s important to you, even if some people wouldn’t understand why," Bucky said, looking down into Tony’s eyes with a soft smile. "That makes it important to me, too."

Tony touched Bucky’s cheek, and Bucky turned his head quickly to drop a kiss on Tony’s wedding band. How was it possible to love someone with all your heart, and then the next day, discover you loved them even _more_? "Yeah," Tony breathed. "Okay."

"I mean, if you’d tried to take me _skiing_ ," Bucky said lightly, "then, we’d have had _words_."

"Well, damn," Tony drawled. "There go my plans for Christmas."

Bucky laughed, and Tony admired his husband’s profile as he settled his hands on Bucky’s hips. Yep, he’d been right: it was going to be the perfect honeymoon.


	42. 26-Jun-2015: Matchmaking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Rating:** T  
>  **Prompt:**  
>  \- Imagine Tony and Bucky playing matchmaker with Sam and Steve (who are already dating but secretly) and they are the one who end up dating because: 1. They're in love obviously and 2. Sam and Steve were playing matchmaker too -Anonymous  
> \- Imagine Tony and Bucky matchmaking person A and B and failing because they are too distracted by each other. -Anonymous  
> \- A/N: Also inspired by (and sort of a sequel to) [this post](http://imaginesteverogerss.tumblr.com/post/122384932958/) at [imaginesteverogerss](http://imaginesteverogerss.tumblr.com/).  
>  **Warnings:** None

"Okay, J, let’s run the projections for tensile strength."

"Working, sir. Incremental results on Display Four."

Tony swigged back the last of his cup of coffee and handed the empty mug off to U. "Make a new pot," he ordered the bot.

"Sir, you have a call incoming from an unknown number."

Tony frowned, watching the calculations scrolling across the display. "Hang up, why are you even telling me about this?"

"I believe you will want to take this one, sir. The speaker claims to be Sergeant Barnes, and voice recog–"

"Put him through!" Tony straightened, eyes widening. "Barnes? How’d you get this number? No, wait, nevermind _how_ , the question of the moment is _why_?"

"Stark." Bucky’s voice was amused. "Got something you’re going to want to see. I’m texting you an address. Meet me there in ten minutes."

Tony glanced at the map JARVIS displayed. "Wait, _meet_ you? You’re in New York?"

"I am now," Bucky agreed. "Ten minutes." The line went dead.

Tony looked at the map again. "No way am I getting a car down there in ten at this time of day. Fire up the suit, J."

***

Tony had been haunting Hydra’s computers for most of a year now, trying to predict which base Bucky would hit next so that Steve could find the guy, and he’d been amusing himself for the better part of six months by leaving messages in the systems for Bucky to find on his tightly-contained rampage of destruction.

It had started out with assurances that they were trying to help him. Pleas for him to let Steve finally catch up. After the first few, Bucky had started talking back, leaving encrypted packets just outside JARVIS’ firewalls. They’d started out brief: "I’m not ready" and "Don’t tell him" and "I have to do this myself."

Tony had felt guilty, not telling Steve that he had established communication with Steve’s long-lost BFF, but he knew as well as anyone the need for redemption and the ache that came with too-easy forgiveness. So he continued helping Steve the same way he had been, and didn’t ask Bucky for any location information. But they’d started to talk.

They talked about a lot of things, though it always eventually seemed to work back around to Steve – what he’d been doing since the ice, who his new team was, and his ridiculous "Language!" slip that Tony couldn’t stop laughing about (seriously, the guy cursed like a sailor, what the hell had that even been?), and his utterly non-existent love life, despite Natasha’s best efforts.

_She’s barking up the wrong tree_ , Bucky had sent. _When they almost caught up to me in Kosovo – nice work there, by the way, I hadn’t expected you to follow that money trail so quickly – he couldn’t take his eyes off that guy with the wings._

Tony had been floored with shock: Captain America was _gay_? And then he’d been delighted. And then he’d been curious. His next missive for Bucky had been full of unapologetically nosy questions. Barnes, surprisingly, actually answered some of them instead of telling Tony to go soak his head.

_God, no, he’s like my brother._ Tony had practically felt Bucky’s physical recoil. _Would you hook up with Rhodes?_ Tony blinked and shuddered and okay, that was fair; no matter how bent you were, some people were just off limits. _Men, women, I don’t think it matters to him much; he’s only ever wanted someone who understood him. Shared life experience, so to speak._ Huh. So not so much gay, then, as, what? Bi– no, pan. And probably demi? Whatever; Tony was still giddy over the notion of Captain America being _queer_. And having a crush on Wilson, too, even better.

Tony’s next hidden missive suggested that Bucky start targeting bases where Steve would need Falcon’s eye-in-the-sky assistance.

Bucky grumbled about Tony just wanting to be able to narrow down the search field, but he did it.

That was when Tony’s brain caught up enough to realize that Bucky didn’t seem to be spooked at all by Steve’s orientation, and that his response to the question of whether he and Steve had ever been an item had been based in the nature of their relationship and not on Bucky’s orientation.

Tony had never been able to resist poking things with sticks to see how they’d react. Nor had he ever been accused of subtlety.

In the next missive, Tony praised the way Bucky’s tactical gear hugged his ass and thighs. Bucky’s response had not-so-delicately suggested certain modifications to the armor for "easy access," and oh, it was _on_.

***

Tony landed on the roof of a dance club, and smirked at Bucky’s wide eyes as he stepped out of the armor. "Yeah, I know," he said. "It’s much cooler up close than it is on the news. James Barnes, I presume?" He held out a hand.

"Got it in one." Bucky squeezed briefly, then used the hold to pull Tony toward the opposite corner of the building. "Come on, you need to see this. Stay low."

Across the street was what looked like a cozy Italian bistro with an outdoor seating area partially concealed with potted trees and fairy lights. "What am I looking at?" Tony asked.

"Third table from the left," Bucky said.

Tony looked, and nearly choked on his own tongue. It was Steve. And Sam. And they were holding hands across the table. "Yes!" Tony celebrated, giving a fistpump. "We did it!" He and Bucky exchanged grins, and then he looked back at the cafe.

Bucky released Tony’s hand, which was when Tony realized they’d been holding hands the whole time. "You want a drink?" He held up a Thermos.

"That’d be great, thanks." Tony accepted a plastic cup and sipped. Lemonade, nice and cold.

They watched Steve and Sam for another minute or two, sipping their lemonade, and then Bucky stiffened. "No, what–"

"What? What’s wr–" And then he spotted Natasha approaching the table. "Oh, no. Nat. What are you doing? They’re fine, don’t mess this up!"

And then they both froze as Natasha leaned down to kiss Steve in greeting. It wasn’t a brief, just-friends kind of kiss. And Sam didn’t let go of Steve’s hand the whole time.

"I’m confused," Tony said.

"You and me both, pal," Bucky returned.

Natasha came up for air – even in the dim light, Steve looked flushed – and then she turned to give Sam the same greeting, as Steve beamed at them.

Tony’s brain was officially broken. "Pan, demi, _poly_ ," he sighed.

Bucky grunted with what Tony assumed was agreement, and they watched as Natasha finished saying hello to Sam and then took her own seat at the table. A waiter approached, took orders, and left.

"Huh," Bucky finally said. "He looks… happy. Really, really happy."

Tony glanced at Bucky sideways, then looked back at the trio at the cafe. "He does, doesn’t he? They all do." He hesitated, then added, "Probably be even happier if he knew you were, you know, back to yourself. And safe."

"You haven’t told him about our whole… thing?"

"You asked me not to," Tony pointed out.

Bucky looked at him, and Tony felt the back of his neck heat. He didn’t say anything, though, and they kept watching their friends.

As the appetizers were being cleared away, Natasha took out her phone.

Tony’s phone rang, and he jumped guiltily. He should have known she would spot him. Stealth was not his strong suit. "Uh."

"Answer it," Bucky said. "You know if you don’t, she’ll just come up here."

"Probably," Tony sighed. He thumbed the screen. "Okay, so, in my defense–"

"I’m curious," she said smoothly, overriding him and speaking just loudly enough that if Bucky had even half the enhanced hearing Steve had, he’d easily be able to pick it up, "why you thought I wouldn’t be able to break the encryption on your little messages."

Tony’s shoulders hunched. It wasn’t so much that he’d thought she couldn’t handle the encryption – she was almost as good with computers as Tony himself – as that he hadn’t considered the possibility that she would notice them. Wisely, he kept that thought to himself.

"Sam says that you’re welcome to watch us eat dinner, but if you try to follow us home to watch the sex, then he’s going to sic Steve on you both. And possibly Pepper."

Tony flinched, and Bucky looked distinctly worried.

"And finally, Steve would like to know what kind of numbskull picks spying on your friends as a first date." Tony blinked at that, but Bucky twitched. Guiltily. And huh, that was… interesting. "He recommends the diner over on Sixth as an alternative. He says Tony will like the coffee and thinks Bucky should ask for the Captain America Special."

The phone went dead, and Tony peered back down at the restaurant. Natasha was tucking her phone back into her purse. Sam was looking up at them with a patently unamused expression. Steve, however, was beaming widely. He made a little shooing gesture with one hand, _go on, get out of here_.

"What was that about?" Tony said.

"Uh." Bucky rubbed at the back of his neck almost the same way Steve did when he was embarrassed. "Well, I was… Well. How’d you like to go for dinner?"

"Hell, yes." The startled, pleased look Bucky gave him was almost unbearably sweet. Tony gestured toward the armor. "Want to make a flashy entrance?"

Bucky grinned. "Damn right I do."

Tony smirked and flipped his phone over to text messages. _Tell Steve we’ll catch up with you guys tomorrow._

  
  



	43. 6-Jul-2015: Rock Star Bucky / Single Dad Tony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Rating:** T  
>  **Prompt:**  
>  \- Imagine Bucky is a legendary rock star and Tony is a single dad who hires him to play his teenage daughter's birthday party - and Bucky would normally say no, because he left those gigs behind him when he made it big, but he saw Tony's picture, and decides to go for it to see if Tony's that hot in person, too. -Anonymous  
>  **Warnings:** None

It was nice to have some downtime, now that the big tour was done, though Bucky thought it was hysterical that the whole band had still shown up at Bucky’s house that morning, as if they’d forgotten how to function when they weren’t living in each others’ pockets.

But that was kind of nice too, honestly. Everyone heard the stories about bands who struck it big and then fell apart because the stresses of fame and travel and the frankly grueling pace of a road tour vastly magnified minor personality conflicts and turned members against each other. Even after three years of chart-busting hits, that still hadn’t happened to Soldiers of Winter.

In the meantime, Bucky and Steve were folded on opposite ends of Bucky’s ratty old couch, playing with riffs and harmonies and trying on some different melodies for the latest lyrics Steve had written. Sam was on the other side of the room, borrowing Bucky’s computer because the internet service he’d put on hold for the tour hadn’t been re-connected yet. And Nat and Clint were in the kitchen, eating cereal out of the box and talking about options for the new car Nat was planning to buy.

Bucky and Steve had moved on to weighing the merits and flaws of concept albums versus story albums when Sam let out a sharp whistle. Bucky twisted to look at him, and Steve’s hands stilled on the strings.

"What’s up, Sam?" Steve asked.

"We just got in an offer for a private gig," Sam said. "Birthday party, of all the damn things. Aw, sweet sixteen."

"Seriously?" Bucky snorted and turned back to his guitar. "Ug. We haven’t done one of those in forever. There’s a standard rejection template in the–" _Ding._ New mail.

"Huh."

"What’s that?"

"Follow-up. It says, _I know you don’t do private shows anymore but I promised her I’d ask and she watched over my shoulder when I sent the first email. But she’s gone now and you can just ignore it or whatever_."

Bucky laughed. "Well, there you go. Just delete it and move on. Hey, Steve, what would you think about moving the bridge to after the third verse?"

Steve frowned. "I dunno, Buck, the tension–" _Ding_.

"Seriously?" Bucky pushed out of his chair and went to read over Sam’s shoulder.

_Maybe if Dad didn’t use such outdated encryption, he’d have a chance of slipping that one by me. Please don’t ignore it and please do the show! I will invite the entire school and make every single one of them buy all your albums and t-shirts even if they already have them. Please please please please, I swear I’m your_ biggest fan ever _, especially Bucky! I even have all the albums from when he was with Hydra (he was the only good thing about that group I swear). If you can’t do the show I’ll understand but please please please do it!!!! Also is it true that Natasha used to play drums for Red Room?_

Natasha, who had come out of the kitchen to follow along, made a soft, startled noise. "I never expected anyone to dig _that_ up," she said.

_Ding_.

"I’m not sure," Sam started, but Clint reached over him to click on the new email.

_She is going to be the most_ grounded _fan ever if she don’t stop hacking my email and harassing you. Just because she is smarter than me does not mean she actually knows better. I’m certain this will be the last you hear from us, at least if she wants to live to see that sixteenth birthday._

Steve chuckled. "Who is this guy, anyway? I’m starting to kind of like him."

"Some rich guy," Clint said, shrugging, but Sam was already plugging the name into Google.

The screen filled with articles and images.

"Wow," Natasha said. She took the mouse from Sam’s hand and clicked over to the images page. " _Wow_. That does not look like a guy with a sixteen-year-old daughter."

"Fifteen-year-old," Bucky corrected absently, but he couldn’t tear his eyes from the pictures on the screen, because, as Natasha had so succinctly put it: _Wow_.

"He’s kinda your type, Buck," Steve murmured into Bucky’s ear.

"Shut up," Bucky hissed back. "I don’t have a type!"

"Uh-huh."

"And there’s no way he’s actually that hot in real life. He’s rich, he probably has all his photos doctored."

"Yeah, okay, Mr. I-Have-My-Art-To-Keep-Me-Warm," Steve said, his voice practically dripping with sarcasm. "What if–"

_Ding_.

This one came from a different user, Bucky noted. The girl’s personal account, if he had to guess.

_I really am sorry if I bothered you. It’s just that I’m going to college in the fall (yeah, really, I skipped a couple of grades) and Dad is trying really hard to pretend he’s happy about it – I mean, he’s totally proud of me of course, but I think he’s going to miss me, but he doesn’t want to admit it, you know? Like he thinks he has to be strong for me and pretend he won’t be lonely, because it’s been just the two of us for almost my whole life. But he’s the one who got me into Soldiers of Winter to start with, back when you guys were still mostly local, and we used to sit around and make up stories about what some of the lyrics were about, and he learned to play a little bit on the piano, even if it doesn’t sound quite the same. (Also I’m pretty sure Dad has a huge crush on Bucky, but you didn’t hear it from me!) But I thought it would be a nice thing for both of us if we could get to meet you and I guess I got ahead of myself and got a little overexcited and pushy. I’m really really sorry, and please don’t be too mad._

"Aw, kid," Clint sighed. He rubbed at the back of his neck with one hand and tipped his head to look at Bucky entreatingly.

"Barnes," Natasha said warningly.

"He’s a pretty big charity giver," Steve observed, flicking a finger at the Google page. "If we set it up as a one-time charity show, it would keep from giving the impression that we’re back to doing private shows."

"Damn it," Bucky sighed. " _Fine_. Set it up." At least he’d get to find out if Tony was as hot in person as in his pictures.

  
  



	44. 11-Jul-2015: Tony and Toni Compare Buckys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Rating:** T  
>  **Prompt:**  
>  \- Imagine Bucky and Tony meeting a female version of Tony who's dating a female version of Bucky. Female Tony gets rather excited when she sees there's a male version of her lover, but she still prefers her own Bucky (ofc). Cue Tony and Tony arguing over which Bucky is better. -Anonymous  
>  **Warnings:** None

Most people never get the chance to seriously even _consider_ having sex with a version of themselves from another dimension. Tony and Toni eye each other thoughtfully for about a minute, and then Toni’s eyes flicker down and to the side, locking in on the gauntlet he’d been repairing when the portal opened, and he realizes she’s right: science before sex. He picks it up and offers it to her, knowing she’ll be able to read the wry twist of his smile.

Toni’s eyes light up as she takes the gauntlet, and she immediately starts disassembling it. Tony thinks about objecting, but, well… he’d do the same. She asks a question about the power supply, and then makes a suggestion for improving the tensile strength, and before either of them realize it, they’re completely surrounded by holoscreens and tossing ideas back and forth in a technical shorthand so dense that even JARVIS can’t keep up.

This is so much better than sex.

Time gets away from them – of course it does – and Tony is taken entirely by surprise when the door opens to admit Bucky. He has an indulgent smile and a tray of – oh, excellent, protein shakes; that means he’s _not_ expecting them to actually stop working. Probably because he already knows it would be futile.

Toni’s eyes light up again when Bucky greets Tony with a casual kiss. "You too?" she squeaks excitedly.

Bucky laughs. "You sound just like him," he tells Toni.

"That is a lie, a vicious, slanderous lie," Tony complains, because he does _not squeak_ , but he can’t put any heat into it because Toni is running her hands curiously over Bucky’s shoulders and back and the _arm_ and it’s hard to get much of anything past the quiet hum of _Hrnnnnggggghhhh_ that’s taking over his brain.

Bucky doesn’t even protest, just watches her, amused. Tony watches carefully, because whether or not they actually get around to the whole selfcest thing, this is _so_ going into the spank bank. After a few minutes, Toni pats Bucky’s shoulder in perfunctory thanks, scoops up one of the protein shakes, and goes back to the holoscreen bank where they’re in the midst of redesigning the joint system.

Tony collects his own drink, and another kiss, and joins his… twin? double? counterpart? Whatever; he goes back to sciencing, barely even hearing the door close as Bucky heads back upstairs to report that the Starks have not yet managed to accidentally blow each other up.

He doesn’t really even think about it until later, as they’re waiting on JARVIS to run the new schematics through the fabrication unit and perform the initial stress tests. The new joint system is going to completely revolutionize whole fields of robotics and make him even more filthily rich than he already is; Pepper is going to be _so happy_. But metallurgy being what it is, fabrication takes time.

Tony leans against the desk and quaffs half a mug of cold coffee, lowering the mug in time to see Toni grimacing at the aftertaste from her own. "So you have a Bucky too?" he asks.

"Oh, yeah," Toni says happily, a dreamy look floating across her face. "She’s amazing."

"Also female, then? Huh. Must have been a treat to get your hands on mine, then." Tony smirks.

Toni laughs. "Well, sure, anything out of the ordinary’s fun to poke at, obviously. You ever find yourself in my dimension, I’ll let you get your hands on my model, and then you’ll know what yours is missing."

"Missing?" Tony squawks. "He’s not missing a damn thing. Were you even _looking_? Those shoulders _alone_ –"

"Hips like…" Toni sighs, shaping them out with her hands. "And thighs… The first time I went down on her, I thought she was going to wrench my head clean off my neck with those thighs. I would’ve died happy."

"You think I don’t get that?" Tony sniffs. "Also, the biceps. And that lovely dark _growl_ when he’s super-focused. Also, the scruff? Super hot."

"Beard burn, super not."

"It’s like you don’t even know me."

"To each her own," Toni concedes, and then she smirks. "But darling, consider this: multiple orgasms, from a serum-enhanced body."

Tony freezes for a moment, his mouth hanging open as he considers it, then pouts. "I can’t believe I’m jealous of _myself_." He glares as Toni pats his cheek, then says, "I still like mine better."

"Well, that’s probably for the best."


	45. 12-Jul-2015: Vampire!Tony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Rating:** T  
>  **Prompt:**  
>  \- Imagine Tony being a vampire and really wanting to taste his lover's blood, but is unable to because Bucky doesn't know (or anyone) at all (except maybe Bruce). It would be lovely if Pepper is a part of Tony's clan or something (Pepper is a vampire too). Tony gnaws on food (oranges, apples, etc) to get rid of the aching desire to sink his teeth in Bucky's neck. -Anonymous  
>  **Warnings:** None

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Russian translation by [Heidel](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Heidel/pseuds/Heidel) [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6110305)!

Pepper leaned in the kitchen doorway and folded her arms. "Just because it’s called a  _blood orange_ , Tony…"

"Shut up," he mumbled. "My fangs ache, the hard rind helps. But I feel like a teething toddler, so making a corny joke out of it makes me feel better."

Pepper tutted sympathetically and came the rest of the way into the kitchen. "You could just tell him," she suggested idly, reaching up into the cabinet.

"Right," Tony shot back sarcastically, "because he wasn’t traumatized enough already by the brainwashing and mindwipe thing, the cryostasis thing, the leaping into the future thing, or the living-with-superheroes thing, so I should definitely add the my-boyfriend-is-a-vampire thing to the pile." He took the three iron supplements that Pepper handed him and dry-swallowed them, then went back to sucking on his orange.

"I could tell him for you if you’re nervous," Pepper said, seeing straight through his excuse because she was terrible like that.

"Either way, I’m still dumped," Tony pointed out glumly.

"I meant tell him about _me_. See how he reacts, and then you’ll know–"

"Absolutely not," Tony said. "If he freaks out, he’ll tell _everyone_. Or hurt you! And then still dump me."

"Don’t be ridiculous," Pepper said easily. "If I think he’s going to break your heart, I’m going to kill him anyway." She kissed his cheek and walked out, her heels clacking on the floor.

"What? No. No, Pepper, no killing, killing is bad!" he called after her, knowing it was futile.

"Who’s Pepper killing today?" Bucky asked, coming in through the other doorway and startling Tony half out of his skin.

"No one," Tony stressed, and then raised his voice because he knew Pepper was still within hearing range. "Because killing is _bad press_ , Pepper! No killing!"

"That’s a relief," Bucky said, taking the orange out of Tony’s hand and starting to peel it for him. "I was worried she’d found out I knew about the whole vampire thing."

"…What."

"Aw, c'mon, Tony, Hydra had a whole _clan_ of vamps in the Special Forces unit, I know how to tell. I’ve known since the third day I was here."

"What."

Bucky grinned and bit into a wedge of blood orange, letting the deep red juice run down his chin. Which was really just an unfair visual. "So I’m guessing the garlic-hatred thing is totally a myth, because I’ve seen the way you wolf down garlic knots."

Bucky was licking the blood orange juice off his fingers, taking his time about it, obviously aware of its effect on Tony. "Uh. Yeah. That’s a myth," Tony managed.

"Yeah. How about the super-strength and instant healing?" Bucky asked. He leaned into Tony’s space and _god_ , Tony could feel his warmth, smell the blood pounding in his throat. Bucky nuzzled at Tony’s neck, biting playfully the way he always did – and _shit_ , Tony was just realizing what that _meant_ , what Bucky had been trying to tell him for _months_.

"That’s… uh. Kind of a thing," he said, half-dazed. "But it’s not as… I’m stronger than Clint, but nowhere near as strong as Steve. And I heal fast, but not– You’re really okay with this?"

Bucky shrugged. "Babe, I live in a talking tower with a monster and an alien-god and my best friend is a freakish science experiment and I’m a cyborg. The other day we met a guy who can literally walk on the ceiling. So the fact that you need a few ounces of blood a day–"

"About a quarter-cup," Tony supplied absently.

"–a quarter-cup of blood a day," Bucky corrected. "That’s not even as weird as that shit Clint puts on his pizza." He leaned in and licked the orange juice off Tony’s lips. "So is the mental domination thing real? Could you put the whammy on me and turn me into a Renfield, all _Yes, Master, right away, Master, as you wish, Master_?"

Tony laughed, only slightly hysterically. "No, that’s, that’s definitely a myth. Do you think I would put up with all the shit I put up with if I could really do that?"

"Little bit of a relief, that," Bucky admitted, and then grinned at him. "Wanna go back upstairs and _pretend_ you can really do that?"


	46. 18-Jul-2015: Blond Tony/Oblivious Bucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Rating:** T  
>  **Prompt:** Can I ask for a blond tony and an oblivious Bucky? PS love you!!! (all of you) -Anonymous  
>  **Warnings:** None

The elevator doors opened on the common area to reveal Steve and Bruce, watching TV and fiddling on their respective tablets. They looked up as Tony’s weary carcass stumbled out of the elevator, then Steve did an actual double-take and started laughing. He didn’t even try to hide it, the bastard. Bruce at least lifted a hand to cover his snicker.

“Shut up, both of you,” Tony grumbled. “There was a mission, I had to go incognito for a few days. We saved the fucking world, again, at minimal cost to life or property, I might add, and what greeting do I get on our triumphal return?  You’re  _laughing_  at me?”

“That,” Clint said as he followed Tony out of the elevator, dragging his own gear, “is because you look ridiculous.”

“Fuck you very much,” Tony snapped, dropping his bags and flopping onto the nearest chair. He was aware that he was being unnecessarily grouchy, but he’d been forced to shave his face bare  _and_  bleach his hair in order to blend in properly and avoid being spotted, and he was  _aware_  that blond was a terrible look on him, but he  _hated_  being laughed at. He’d be more civil about the teasing, he promised himself, once he’d had a hot shower, a solid meal, ten hours of sleep, and a blowjob.

He wasn’t even picky about what order he got them in.

That was if Bucky would even be able to touch him without bursting into giggles, which… Ug. Tony’s stomach curled in on itself at the very thought of Bucky mocking him, even in jest.

Maybe he could hide in his workshop for a few days until he’d had a chance to grow out his beard a bit and make an appointment with his stylist to re-dye his hair.

Yeah, that sounded like a good plan. He and Bucky had only been together for a couple of months before this mission had hit; the last thing their relationship needed now was for Tony to overreact to well-meant teasing. Better he just remove himself from the equation before that happened.

Right. Tony heaved himself back to his feet, preparing to retreat to the workshop and abandon Clint to the horrors of debrief (it was Clint’s fault Tony had been forced to dye his hair anyway, so it was totally deserved).

“Tony!”

Damn it. Too late.

Tony steeled himself and turned toward his lover, pretending he hadn’t noticed the way the others’ faces had lit up in anticipation of Bucky’s reaction. “Hey, babe, we just got in.”

Bucky didn’t even pause as he entered the room, just tackled Tony into a hug. Okay, that was nice. Tony hugged him back.

After a long moment, Bucky pulled back to look into Tony’s eyes, and Tony braced for it…

Bucky kissed him, right on the edge of too filthy for public consumption. “God, I missed you,” he mumbled into Tony’s mouth.

“Me too,” Tony agreed, wariness sliding into confusion even as he returned the frantic kisses.

“Bucky,” Clint prompted, “aren’t you going to  _say_  anything?”

Bucky kept one arm around Tony’s waist as he turned to look at Clint. “About what?”

Steve chimed in, “About the way Tony’s… changed?”

Bucky pulled Tony a little closer to his side in a one-armed hug. “Aw, he always drops weight on a mission. We’ll get him fed up again.” He scooped up Tony’s gear bag as if it was filled with fluff and feathers instead of surveillance gear and armor, slinging it over his free shoulder. “Come on, doll, you’re probably looking forward to a nice hot shower.” He started chivvying a now thoroughly-bewildered Tony down the hall toward their suite.

When Bucky joined him under the hot spray and started helping him scrub down that Tony finally couldn’t take the suspense any longer. “Seriously, you… really didn’t notice the hair?”

Bucky’s eyes  _finally_  tipped up to the blond locks, matted to Tony’s forehead with water, and then dropped back to look into Tony’s eyes. “Course I did,” he said, kissing Tony’s cheek. “Still got  _you_  under it, though. That’s all I care about.”

“Oh.” Confusion melting into gratitude, Tony finally relaxed and gave himself up to Bucky’s care. “I love you.”

“Love you too, doll,” Bucky said happily, nuzzling into Tony’s neck as his hands wandered lower, ostensibly for the purpose of cleaning. “No matter what crazy thing Clint talks you into doing for the sake of a mission.” He smirked. “Besides, it’s way more fun to tweak the others by pretending I didn’t notice.”

***

It wasn’t until later that Bucky moaned, thrusting up into Tony’s mouth, and said, “Wow, that feels… That feels  _different_. Wait–  _Tony, where the fuck is your goatee?_ ”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NB: The prompter wrote us back later to tell us they'd meant to ask for _blind_ Tony... Always proofread before you hit Send, kids! ;-)
> 
> And Tony really does look ridiculous when he's blond. For proof, I offer the following:  
>   
> 


	47. 6-Aug-2015: Past Lives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Rating:** T  
>  **Prompt:** Imagine Tony and Bucky have had multiple past live together, both as famous couples and private persons, or even different species but always devoted to each other each time they meet again. Bucky's torture when he was with Hydra gave him access to those deep memories. But he remembers them piecemeal, along with normal memories. He *recognizes* Tony, without understanding clearly. He mentions *all* these bits matter of factly. They fall for each other spectacularly, and Tony's memory cascades. -followthemuze  
>  **Warnings:** None

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Русский translation [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6196726). Thank you, [Heidel](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Heidel/pseuds/Heidel)!

“We went out dancing,” Bucky said, staring into the middle distance. “You an’ me an’ Betty an’ Margie.”

“I don’t remember Margie, but sure,” Steve said. “We were out with Betty a lot, and whatever date you could scrape up for me. You were so gone on Betty.”

Bucky smiled, a little sadly. “I was gonna marry her, after the war,” he confessed. “She liked you.”

“She argued with me about every damn thing,” Steve pointed out, but he remembered those arguments fondly, himself. At least she hadn’t dismissed him entirely.

Bucky sighed. “Yeah, but if she didn’t like a guy, she wouldn’t even talk to him, so she must have liked you. Wonder what happened to her?”

It wasn’t hard to find out: Betty had married another man, a few years after the war ended, and died far too young, a victim of cancer. Steve took Bucky to a church to light a candle in her memory.

***

“There was a drought,” Bucky said one night as they were getting ready for bed, looking at the shower steam swirling in the air.

“When was this?” Steve asked around his toothbrush.

Bucky shook his head. “Not sure. But there was a drought, and there was nothing to eat, and the babies were born weak and sick, and I was so starved, I could barely nurse ‘em. And he went out hunting every day, for days on end sometimes, and all he found to bring back was… was lizards. The babies were weaned on lizard meat, and he and I were both wasting away, and then once he was gone longer than ever, but when he came back he had half a deer in his jaws, and we all feasted. He ate last, just prowling around the whole time, until I’d had my fill, and when we were done we licked the blood from each others’ fur.” He sighs and leans against the wall, relaxing, as if the memory is a good one. “It rained not long after, finally, and then the babies were strong enough to travel, and we moved on to somewhere the game was easier to find. But we’d have died if it wasn’t for him.”

“Buck,” Steve said uneasily. “You don’t have fur. Or babies. Or… Are you even listening to yourself?”

Bucky blinked, eyes focusing again, and looked confused. “Yeah, I guess that’s kinda crazy, isn’t it? It’s so  _clear_ , though.”

***

It had been a good day for recovering memories – there was one from the war about a ridiculous prank that Morita had played on Dum-Dum, and another one from their childhood about Mrs. Barnes and Bucky’s oldest sister teaching Steve how to roll crust for a pie, and still another from Bucky’s young childhood, before he’d even met Steve. Now Bucky was leaning against the wall, staring out the window at the lowering sun while Steve packed the books on his shelves.

“He’d sold himself into slavery,” Bucky said out of nowhere, “to pay his family’s debts. The slave market was noisy and horrible and smelled terrible, and I was just trying to get past as fast as I could, on the way to some party, I think. But I saw him there, standing so tall and proud, and I couldn’t walk away. He was young and strong and educated, and the bidding was fierce, and it took my entire allowance for the quarter to take him home with me. I was in love from the first moment I saw him, but he managed my house and my accounts for three years before he admitted that he loved me, too.”

Steve eyed him uneasily. “Did Natasha leave another one of those terrible romance novels lying around again?”

Bucky shook his head, his eyes still dreamy. “He was Greek, I think. By the time I was twenty-five he owned me more thoroughly than I ever owned him.”

“Who was?” Steve pressed.

Bucky blinked back to the present and looked at Steve. “What?”

Steve sat back on his heels. “Buck, are you sure you’re okay with us moving back to New York? We can stay in DC longer if you’d rather.”

Bucky grinned, easy and carefree. “Nah, I’m looking forward to it. I wanna see that big shiny tower and meet the rest of your crazy friends.”

***

Bucky shook Thor’s hand with a wide smile and no hint of hesitation. “Jeez, but you’re a big fella,” Bucky said with a whistle. “I mean, Steve said, but  _wow_.”

Thor laughed. “So I am told. On Asgard, I am but average of stature, though a warrior’s training of course builds breadth.”

“Well, that’s true,” Bucky admitted. “Stevie got me back my old coat from the museum, and I could barely squeeze my arms into it, never mind the shoulders.”

“Sorry I’m late,” Tony said, sweeping in. “There was a thing down in R&D, I don’t even know where Pepper finds these people, and trust me, if I hadn’t stuck around there would have been an explosion, so you’re just going to have to let me have this one, Cap. Is this your friend?” He threw his overcoat onto a chair and dropped his briefcase, then headed straight for Bucky, hand outstretched. “I have to say, we’ve been hearing a lot–” He stumbled to a halt, staring at Bucky uncertainly.

Bucky had gone rigid with shock. His eyes were big and round, gaze locked on Tony’s face, his mouth gaping, and he wasn’t even breathing.

“Bucky?” Steve tried. He put a hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “You okay?”

“It’s you,” Bucky whispered, eyes still on Tony. “I didn’t think I– It’s you. It’s  _always_  you.”

Tony cocked his head to the side, but he looked intrigued now. “What’s always me?”

“The– When I–” Bucky grimaced, frustrated. “ _Everything_.”

Tony stepped a little closer to Bucky. “Hey, relax, it’s okay. If you can’t explain it, we’ll just let it go. It’s okay.” He reached out to rest one hand on Bucky’s forearm.

Bucky could move fast as a striking snake if he wanted; in the instant Tony touched him, he lunged, hands cupping Tony’s skull and pulling them together. Before Steve could react, Bucky was kissing Tony.

Steve stared. That… was not any of the reactions he had anticipated.

Instead of pushing Bucky away, Tony relaxed into it, his hands fisting into Bucky’s shirt, and that was even more surprising.

It wasn’t a deep or dirty kiss, just a slow, soft press of lips, an exchange of breath that seemed all the more intimate and meaningful for its gentleness.

Bucky pulled back enough to look into Tony’s eyes, and he said something that… wasn’t any language Steve understood. It wasn’t any language he could  _identify_ , even.

Tony, looking dazed and dizzy, as if his grip on Bucky’s shirt was the only thing keeping him upright, responded in the same unidentifiable language.

“I don’t understand what’s happening,” Steve complained.

Thor threw an arm around Steve’s shoulders. “Do you not, my friend? This is a reunion of souls that have been intertwined for centuries – perhaps even millennia. It is a rare event, one we should count ourselves honored to witness.”

Bucky was paying them no attention. He kissed Tony again, briefly but tenderly, and slipped his fingers through Tony’s hair. “I’m sorry,” he said, back in English now, though his Brooklyn drawl had deepend considerably. “I’m sorry I took so long, darlin’. How long have you been waiting for me?”

Tony let out a ragged chuckle. “I didn’t know that I was until just now,” he said, running a thumb along Bucky’s jaw, “but apparently… my whole life.”

 


	48. 22-Aug-2015: Watching Tony Spar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Rating:** T  
>  **Prompt:** Imagine Bucky being amazed at how Tony spars, and feeling a little overprotective when Natasha kicks his ass. -Anonymous  
>  **Warnings:** None

“One more round,” Bucky told Steve, panting. “I’ve almost got that throw down.”

“We’ve been at it for  _hours_ , Buck,” Steve complained.

“Geez, you soup a guy up with some magic formula and give him fancy muscles, and suddenly  _I can do this all day_  turns into  _oh, I’m such a delicate fainting flower_.” Steve flipped him off, and Bucky laughed. “Come on, just one more round.”

“You said that three rounds ago,” Steve said. “I’ve never known you to be so dedicated about training. What’s going on?”

“I just want to be in top shape, now that I’m going out on calls with the rest of the team,” Bucky protested. “Nothing’s  _going on_.”

“So the fact that you looked over at the others when you said that doesn’t mean anything?” Steve asked. His tone was neutral, but his mouth was curving in a smirk.

“Fuck off,” Bucky said, helplessly looking again at the far side of the gym, where Clint and Natasha and Tony were laughing and taunting each other through some kind of three-way sparring that didn’t have any set rules that Bucky could see.

Even as Bucky watched, Tony ducked under a jab of Clint’s, rolled sideways to avoid Natasha’s kick, and came up with surprising speed to deliver a haymaker to Clint’s bad ear, shoulder muscles bunching as he pulled its impact.

“Point,” Tony called, dancing back out of range with a delighted grin.

“Agreed,” Natasha said, and Clint grunted his acceptance. The holographic score in the air above them flickered and updated, and then they were right back into the fray, half deadly force, half bumbling puppy pile.

Bucky elbowed Steve. “That looked like one of yours,” he said.

Steve nodded. “I’ve worked with him some,” he admitted.

“He’s a lot better than I thought he would be,” Bucky said. “I thought the suit did most of the work for him.”

Steve grinned. “The suit does a lot of it. But he started self-defense training when he was about seven.”

Bucky tore his eyes from the brawl to raise his eyebrows incredulously at Steve.

Steve shrugged. “Peggy insisted, apparently, after the first kidnapping attempt.”

“At  _seven_?”

“Howard was a wealthy man with more than a few enemies,” Steve pointed out. “It was all but inevitable that his family would be targeted eventually. Apparently that first attempt was foiled by Howard’s butler, but after that, Peggy insisted that Tony start learning how to fight. He says she taught him herself, those first couple of years.”

Now that Bucky was watching, he could see the groundwork Peggy had laid in Tony’s no-holds-barred, victory-at-all-costs approach to fighting. “Well. Thank god for Agent Carter.”

Steve grinned. “Uh-huh. So, when are you going to ask him out?”

“Shut up.”

“You think I don’t recognize when you’re mooning after someone, after all this time?” Steve teased.

“Fuck off,” Bucky growled again. “I’m a relic of the past with a spotty memory and a kill record longer than his list of patents – two of which, by the way, are  _his parents_. I haven’t got a single damn thing to recommend me to him.”

Steve rolled his eyes – Bucky could tell without even looking. “Except for the way he keeps looking over here like a teenager hoping his crush is watching. It’s embarrassing, honestly, the way you two–”

There was more, but just then Natasha flipped over Clint’s back, using his shoulders like a gymnast’s pommel horse, and slammed into Tony with enough force to knock him to the floor, despite the fact that Tony was half again her weight.

She twined her legs around Tony’s neck and used the momentum of the fall to come up kneeling on his chest and neck, her fist stopped a hair’s breadth from his nose. “Kill,” she said calmly.

Kill indeed. If she hadn’t halted the punch, it would have driven the cartilige of Tony’s nose straight back into his skull. As it was, Tony was struggling to breathe.

Bucky’s veins ran cold as if his blood had been replaced with ice, and before he knew what he was doing, he was across the gym, pushing Natasha off Tony’s chest and gathering Tony into his arms. “Come on, sit up, breathe,” he urged frantically.

Tony sucked in a wheezing breath, and then another, and the ice crawling through Bucky’s veins receded a little. “‘Sokay, I’m fine,” he rasped. “Just a little winded.”

Bucky helped Tony to his feet, keeping an arm around his waist and glaring at Natasha. “The hell is wrong with you?”

Natasha’s eyebrows raised and she cocked her head, and then her eyes widened in sudden understanding. Bucky fought back a blush, but all she said was, “It’s not training if I don’t push.”

Tony elbowed him gently. “She’s right. It’s okay. I know what I’m getting into when I step onto the mats with these two.”

Bucky huffed. “She’s just jealous because you were ahead on points.”

Clint headed off for a towel and water, but Natasha was still looking at Bucky, her head still tipped to one side thoughtfully. “Maybe the two of you should train together for a while,” she said.

Bucky felt the skin around his eyes stretch. “I don’t think that’s–”

“That’s a great idea,” Steve said, coming up behind him. “You’ll both have some new moves the other hasn’t seen. And you can get to know each other a little, too.”

Bucky twisted to stare at Steve.  _What do you think you’re doing?_  his glare said.

Steve smirked, and his eyes flicked down to where Bucky’s arm was still wrapped around Tony’s waist, back up to Bucky’s face, and then back down to where, instead of leaning away, Tony’s hip was fitted comfortably into the curve of Bucky’s body.

“That sounds like a good idea,” Tony was saying. “What d'ya think, Robocop, a chance to get sweaty and put our hands all over each other?”

There was no fighting back  _that_  blush, but Bucky lifted his chin. “I expect there’s a few things I could teach you.”

“Yeah? Wanna take me back to your place and show me?” Bucky barely repressed a start, but Tony just waved toward the mats where Bucky and Steve had been working earlier. But then he looked up, lips curved wickedly, and – oh, yeah, he knew  _exactly_  what he was doing to Bucky.

Steve and Natasha, behind Tony’s back, bumped fists, and then linked arms and strolled toward the doors, snaring Clint in their wake. “Gym’s all yours, boys,” Natasha said. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“Doesn’t narrow it down much,” Tony pointed out. Bucky could hear the smile in his voice.

Natasha looked back over her shoulder and winked. Tony laughed and leaned even closer to Bucky. Bucky decided to forgive her for the overenthusiastic attack.


	49. 25-Aug-2015: Shapeshifter Tony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Rating:** T  
>  **Prompt:** imagine Tony being able to change into animals (maybe he's a Wizard or a Druid (Dungeons &Dragons Druid)) and know one knows except Rhodey, Pepper and Happy. Rhodey found out back in MIT by accident and Pepper and Happy found out by accident as well. well what if, Bucky has a nightmare or a panic attack and since no one else is around Tony changes int a dog or a cat or something fluffy and helps Bucky calm down? Bucky is the only one to know of Tony's ability by Tony's choice and Bucky is honored. -Anonymous  
>  **Warnings:** None

_He is swimming in blood, literally, its thick salt bearing him up, and he struggles against its currents, which are carrying him farther and farther from shore. He kicks and flails, but inexorably, he is pulled under, choking on the hot copper tang–_

Bucky sits up, gasping wetly for air, shivering, still half-caught in the net of the dream. His room, spacious though it is, suddenly feels confining. He had specifically asked for a room without windows, but now the unbroken walls loom, throbbing in time with his pulse, pressing down on him. Frantic, he kicks away sweat-soaked sheets and stumbles for the door.

He staggers through the halls. His cheeks are wet – is he weeping, or bleeding? He is afraid to check. Finally, he reaches the hangar. He smacks at the wall, half-blind, vision still smeared with blood, until his numb fingers find the trigger that opens the bay doors. The blast of cold autumn air as the doors open is a shock, but a welcome one. Bucky closes his eyes and steps forward into its embrace, one foot after the other, willing it to surround him, to wash away the touch of the blood.

“Bucky.”

Startled, Bucky whirls into a defensive crouch, searching frantically for the source of the sound even as he reaches for a weapon he isn’t carrying–

“It’s just me.” Tony is sitting on the wing of the quinjet. He’s wearing jeans and an undershirt and nothing else, not even shoes, and is smeared with grease from head to toe. His hair, always unruly, is sticking out in all directions, except where a pair of welding goggles is pinning it down on top of his head. The soft blue of the arc reactor lights his face from below, and in the wake of Bucky’s dream, it makes Tony seem strange and otherworldly and sinister, his expression unreadable.

The blood tide surges again, lapping at his skin, and in sudden panic, he steps back, seeking the night air, the cleansing cold–

“ _Stop_ ,” Tony says urgently, and the look on his face is readable now: fear. “Bucky. Stop. Please. I can’t– I don’t think I can summon the suit in time to catch you, if you fall.”

What? Bucky glances over his shoulder. He’s only an arm’s length from the edge of the landing gantry. Another few steps, and he’d be over the edge.

Was that why he closed his eyes? So he wouldn’t see it when he fell?

“Come on, Buck,” Tony says softly, “come back in. I can’t be the one to tell Steve that you fell  _again_.”

A shard of icy terror ripples through him at that, though he’s not sure what’s worse: the idea of falling again, or knowing what it would do to Steve. Bucky falls to his knees, shivering.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Tony says. He puts down the acetylene torch he’s holding and slides off the edge of the wing, knees bending to absorb the impact as he drops to the floor, nearly as silent on his bare feet as Natasha might have managed. He takes a few steps closer, one hand extended in offering, in comfort.

Bucky sobs and curls into a ball, shaking his head frantically and lifting the metal hand to ward Tony away. He’s still drowning in blood, a monster, unworthy of comfort or care or humanity.

Tony stops, doesn’t come closer. He’s silent for a moment, and then says, “You know, after the war, the SSR – and then SHIELD – confiscated a lot of weird artifacts from the Hydra bases they raided. Dad was in charge of researching some of them, but some just defied all explanation. Drove him crazy.”

Bucky can barely hear Tony over the rush of blood in his ears, the murmur of it drawing him down, but even in the depths of his despair, he has no trouble imagining Howard’s rage at encountering something that couldn’t be explained or controlled.

“And I was a curious little brat,” Tony is continuing, “always getting into things I shouldn’t. He left me alone with them once, for just a bit too long. He made me swear to keep it secret. I spent a long time thinking he was angry and embarrassed, but now, having seen SHIELD in action… well, maybe he was trying to protect me.”

Tony’s voice is so studiously, carefully neutral, that Bucky has to lift his head to look.

Tony cocks his head, just slightly, studying Bucky as closely as he would a malfunctioning circuit board. “Can you keep a secret?”

Bucky nods. He can barely bring himself to say “good morning” half the time; keeping his mouth shut isn’t a problem.

“Rhodey knows,” Tony says, and now that careful facade is crumbling, revealing the nervous flutter underneath. “And Pep. But that was an accident, they weren’t supposed to… I haven’t ever actually  _told_  anyone else, and now? It’s stupid but I don’t know what words to use that you’ll… Well, maybe it’s best just to show you. Yeah?”

Bucky lifts one shoulder in a shrug, watching Tony carefully, curious and cautious.

Tony’s lips curve, his dark eyes flash, and then– he’s gone.  _Gone_. There’s a rumpled pile of clothes on the floor, and Tony is nowhere to be–

The cloth shifts and moves, and before Bucky can react, a sleek black cat climbs out of the pile and shakes itself off as if it had been forced to dash through the rain. Bucky blinks. The cat sits on its haunches, licks one paw, and cocks its head at Bucky exactly the same way Tony–

“Tony?” Bucky breathes. He’s seen a lot of weird things over the years, but this… this takes the cake.

The cat  _prrrpp_ s, then saunters forward to strop its –  _his_  – side against Bucky’s leg. He’s big, for a housecat, and lean, has a white patch of fur on his chest, just where Tony’s arc reactor sits. His eyes are golden, the pupils wide in the dim light of the hangar. The fur of his face is slightly matted with oil, but otherwise, he’s a gorgeous creature. Bucky stares for a long moment, and the cat –  _Tony_  – stares back, expectantly.

Bucky feels his tongue move in his mouth. “Am I dreaming?” Bucky asks. It seems logical. He can still feel the blood-dream swirling around him, pressing behind his eyes.

Tony looks supremely unimpressed, in the way that only cats can, but the expression is purely and indubitably  _Tony_.

“I don’t… What am I supposed to do?”

Bucky’s not sure if cats can even roll their eyes, but that’s the impression Tony gives. Tony sneezes impatiently, then dips his head, worming his nose under Bucky’s hand until Bucky finally takes the hint and strokes Tony’s fur from head to tail. Tony purrs – loud, in the quiet dark – and strops himself against Bucky’s leg again.

“Well okay,” Bucky says, still not sure this is even real, “but I didn’t want to be taking liberties. You’re still  _you_  in there, right?”

Tony’s purr ratchets up another notch, and bumps his head into Bucky’s hand again.

So Bucky pets Tony some more, and after a few moments, Tony climbs imperiously onto Bucky’s lap. Bucky huffs out half a laugh. “Don’t I get a say?”

Tony chirrups again, haughtily, and props his front paws on Bucky’s chest so he can stretch up to rub his head against Bucky’s cheek.

Bucky’s known enough cats in his life to interpret that message:  _MINE_. Bucky snorts. “Okay,” he says, “you win.” He curls his hand protectively around Tony’s body as he scoots deeper into the hangar and leans against a wall, settling into a more comfortable position.

Tony curls into Bucky’s lap as if he was made to fit there and rests his head contentedly on Bucky’s thigh, purring so loud that it sounds like one of his fancy sports car engines idling.

Bucky can feel the purr right down into his bones, soothing and grounding. Slowly, the warmth and silky feel of the small body pushes away the sticky heat of the blood tide, and eventually Bucky realizes that he has matched his breaths to the rhythm of that rumbling purr, filling his lungs with sweet, cool air and relaxing the choking knot of panic in his throat.

Moments later, Tony is asleep in his lap, still purring, but more softly now. Bucky leans his head against the wall and continues petting Tony’s fur.

***

He wakes with a start, curled on the floor of the hangar. The bay door is closed, and there’s no sign anyone else was ever there, human or feline. Maybe it was actually a dream, after all. If he’s sleepwalking, he’ll have to put some safeguards into place. He sits up and eyes the wing of the quinjet, and considers climbing up to see if he can spot any new welding seams.

Before he can make up his mind, Steve comes in, looking worried. “Bucky! There you are. Are you okay?”

Bucky nods. Then, because Steve still looks worried, forces words from his throat: “I’m fine. Went for a walk to clear my head. Must’ve fallen back to sleep.” He climbs to his feet and stretches, then looks around. “Steve, is there a… a cat in the building?”

Steve lifts his eyebrows. “A cat?”

Bucky nods. “Big black tom, white chest?” Steve looks mystified and somehow even more worried, so Bucky shrugs it off. “Never mind. Must have dreamed it.”

Steve still looks worried, but willing to let Bucky push the question aside. “Must have. Come on, let’s get some breakfast into you.”

Bucky dusts himself off to follow Steve, and stops cold. Settling on the floor from where he’d brushed it from his lap is a cat’s whisker, long and wiry and black. Bucky picks it up and tucks it into his pocket. After breakfast, he’s going to have to find Tony.

 

 


	50. 27-Aug-2015: Bucky vs. the Winter Soldier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Rating:** T  
>  **Prompt:** Imagine that the Winter Soldier is the one to kiss Tony first. At this point Bucky is mostly past his programming and the Winter Soldier is more of an alter ego - one that tends to come out a lot around Tony- that he's trying to integrate with. And while Tony and Bucky are still dancing around each other and their feelings, the Winter Soldier just makes a move. Bucky is not impressed. -Anonymous  
>  **Warnings:** None

Bruce stumbled to a halt as he walked into the library, nearly sloshing hot tea all over himself.

Bucky was sitting on the couch by the window, legs drawn up and arms wrapped around his shins, forehead resting on one knee.

Bruce hesitated for a moment, then took hold of himself and crossed the threshold into the room. “I wasn’t expecting to see you today,” he said in his usual soft, calm tone. “I mean, Tony said you finally kissed him, so–” Bruce broke off when Bucky’s head shook violently.

“Wasn’t me,” Bucky said without lifting his head, voice muffled. “It was, you know.  _Him_.”

“Really?” Bruce sat on the other end of the couch. He was no stranger to the experience of an alter ego’s unwelcome intrusion, but that was… unexpected. “I admit, I wouldn’t have thought the Winter Soldier would go in for that sort of thing.”

Bucky lifted his head, just high enough to glare at Bruce from under his hair. “Meaning what?”

Bruce poured himself a cup of tea, and inhaled its aroma. It had a slight metallic tinge – he’d have to change the water filter soon. “Meaning that he’s a stone-cold killer,” Bruce said carefully. “From what you’ve said. From what I’ve seen. Pretty hard to get him angry, even. Just ruthless and efficient. Wouldn’t have pegged him to care much about his sex life.”

“He doesn’t,” Bucky growled. “He’s just…  _fucking_  with me.”

“Maybe,” Bruce suggested, “he figured you’d talked yourself out of making a move.”

Bucky’s glare intensified, but then his gaze dropped. “Just about,” he admitted. “Tony’s just so…” He trailed off with a frustrated sigh.

Bruce didn’t press; he’d heard it all before, during these meetings of their informal but exclusive My Alter Ego Is An Asshole club. The enormity of Bucky’s crush on Tony was exceeded only by the size of Bucky’s self-esteem issues. Bruce had long since stopped trying to convince Bucky that Tony felt the same way. “Mm,” he agreed neutrally instead, watching the steam curl up from the surface of his tea.

Bucky dropped his head back onto his knees. “Doesn’t mean the jerk can just butt in, though,” Bucky said. “Not until I’ve  _actually_  given up. He even kept me  _aware_  when he did it,” he groaned. “Let me  _watch_. Rubbing it in, the asshole.”

“Or maybe,” Bruce said patiently, “the reintegration is going better than you think, and the Soldier is trying to help you along.”

Bucky snorted disbelief.

“Tony did say it was  _you_  who kissed him,” Bruce pointed out.

Bucky frowned. “He did?”

“Yep.”

Bucky unfolded a bit. “So do you think he–”

“I think he’s in his workshop right now wondering where you are,” Bruce said.

Bucky sat up and put his feet on the floor. “You think if I–”

“Pretty sure he won’t even let you get a word out first,” Bruce agreed.

“So… it’s okay with you if–”

“ _Go_ ,” Bruce said, rolling his eyes.

Bucky was gone with a puff of air as he passed and an overeager slam of the door. Bruce settled back into the couch cushions and took a sip of his tea. It really was an excellent blend; he’d have to order more.


	51. 6-Sept-2015: Musical Talents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Rating:** T  
>  **Prompts:**  
>  -Imagine Tony and Bucky both being musical, (secret talent!), and it comes out when one or the other is upset by something, It's so unexpected and it distracts them because they can literally make beautiful music together now. -followthemuze  
> \- imagine Tony being really really good at playing the piano, something his mother taught him to do. it was the few things him and Maria would do together and he cherished every moment of it. no one really knows so when everyone moves into the tower sometimes they hear the piano playing late at night. sometimes it’s a happy song, sometimes is a sad song and sometimes the song is haunting. Bucky is the one who follows the music and finds out it’s Tony who’s playing. Tony teaches Bucky how to play. -Anonymous  
>  **Warnings:** None

Bucky groaned and rolled over to pound the metal fist against the wall. “Steve, it’s two in the morning! Turn off the damn radio!”

Steve’s voice filtered through the wall, much louder to Bucky’s serum-enhanced hearing than the music he was hearing. “I don’t have a radio, Buck! Just go to sleep!”

“Well  _someone_  has a radio around here!” Bucky cursed. He’d been hearing it for weeks. Not every night, but nearly, a startling variety of cheery and sad and sultry music. He strained his ears, but now it was quiet. Maybe there was a commercial on – but those were usually louder than the music.

Maybe whoever it was had finally turned off their radio. Cautiously, Bucky fluffed his pillow and turned over.

The tinkling strains of something classical tickled Bucky’s ear.

“Aaargh!” he groaned. “JARVIS, tell whoever that is to turn off their radio!”

“My apologies, Mr. Barnes,” the AI said, “but there are no radios in use in the building at this time.”

“Aw, JARV, you know what I mean. Radios, iPods, whatever!”

“There are no electronic music devices in use,” JARVIS insisted.

“But I can  _hear_  it!” JARVIS didn’t respond. “Damn it, I just got  _un_ crazy,” Bucky grumbled, and threw the blankets aside.

***

Well, JARVIS had been  _technically_  correct, if less than usually helpful: the music wasn’t coming from an electronic device. The snarky bucket of code might’ve mentioned that Bucky was listening to a  _live_  performance, though.

It had taken some doing to even find the room, tucked away as it was, even if it technically was on the shared common floor, but here it was: a music room. Racks and cabinets containing a startling array of instruments and Bucky had no doubt that the walls had been perfectly angled the most ideal acoustics short of a concert hall, and that the weight to the door meant that the temperature and humidity of the room was strictly controlled. In pride of place at the center of the room was a piano, a baby grand, all polished black lacquer and subdued off-white ivory. And sitting at the piano’s keyboard was, to Bucky’s surprise, Tony Stark.

Tony’s gaze was distant, his eyes half-lidded, barely watching his hands as they moved expertly over the keys, almost as if he was hypnotized. Bucky lurked in the shadows by the door, just as entranced, for what might have been minutes or hours.

But then there were chords that seemed familiar, snapping Bucky out of his daze, though he couldn’t place the song until Tony softly started to sing in a voice that was richer and smoother than Bucky would have guessed.

_Maybe it’s best that we’re through_  
What was it leading us to  
You were pretending, this is just ending  
Dreams that could never come true  
You go your way in content  
I’m trying hard to repent

Bucky found his own lips moving, whispering the words of a song he’d learned as a boy, a favorite of his mother’s before he’d been old enough to understand the meaning. Now, hearing the words again, they pulled at his chest until it ached with longing and heartbreak.

_My sin was loving you_  
Not wisely, but too well  
Your sin was letting me  
And getting me in your spell  
Our sin was following  
A love that could not be  
Now my sin is wanting you  
Though you’ve forgotten–

Tony’s voice broke and he stopped playing, resting his elbows on the polished top of the piano and dropping his face into his hands. Suddenly, Bucky realized that the music had started just about the time that Ms. Potts had gone back to California.

Tony probably wouldn’t appreciate Bucky intruding on his grief, though – he’d obviously been taking pains to hide it from everyone, and even if they had seen right through him – Natasha certainly would have, and a few of Steve’s comments suddenly made more sense – they were playing along. Bucky backed out of the room just as Tony’s shoulders began to shake with silent sobs, and made sure that the door closed silently.

***

Bucky couldn’t stay away, though. Every time he was lying awake in his bed at night and heard the quiet echoes of the piano in the dark, he got up and went to listen. He got pretty good at judging Tony’s state of mind from the sorts of songs that danced out of those long fingers, whether it was melancholy love songs or angry interpretations of Tony’s favorite heavy metal or contemplative abstract harmonies.

He found himself paying more attention to Tony during the day, as well, and taking advantage of the message of Tony’s music to adjust his behavior. After a short concert of half-finished scattered babbling, Bucky brewed the morning coffee extra-strong, and after a long, sleepless night of jagged horror themes and disturbing minor-chord progressions, Bucky talked Clint into picking a better day to pull one of his elaborate pranks. A set of bubbling, playful swing pieces made Bucky grin into his shadowed corner and spend the following day flirting until Tony actually  _blushed_.

It wasn’t until Steve teased him about it that he realized his feelings for Tony might be something more than strictly friendly.

As the months rolled along, Bucky was pleased to note that the songs about heartbreak began to taper off, giving way to happier, more hopeful pieces. Even when Tony was in an obviously low mood, there were fewer songs about being left behind, and more plaintive longing.

_Now I’m flyin’ high, but I’ve got a feelin’ I’m fallin’_  
Fallin’ for nobody else but you  
You caught my eye and I’ve got a feelin’ I’m fallin’  
Show me the ring and I’ll jump right through…

Tony had begun to add in more and more songs from Bucky and Steve’s day, and more than once, Bucky had caught himself humming along, softly.

Bucky didn’t know if Tony was aware of his audience, or if there was some other reason his thoughts and mood had turned to the pre-war era. It was a question Bucky didn’t think about too often, afraid to know the answer.

***

It was months later that Bucky followed a wistful and wandering theme to the music room late one night to find the door already ajar, the room itself dim, lit only with a few candles. There was a vase on the piano, filled with dozens of roses. The instant he nudged the door a little wider to peer in, though, the music stopped, and Tony looked up, catching Bucky’s gaze before he could duck out again.

A small smile played around Tony’s lips, and without looking away, his fingers began to dance out a new melody, one that had been popular during the war.

Heart thudding, unable to look away, Bucky stepped all the way into the room, which he hadn’t done before, not in the whole – aw, heck, was it a whole year, already? He swallowed as the introductory bars concluded. Hoping he wasn’t about to royally fuck up, he opened his mouth to sing.

_If I could be with you one li'l hour tonight,_  
And free to do all those little things I might,  
I want you to know you wouldn’t go,  
Until I told you that I loved you so.

Tony’s hands actually stumbled on the keys at the first notes from Bucky’s throat, but then he recovered, his eyes nearly glowing with joy as Bucky continued singing the second verse.

_If I could be with you I’d love you long,_  
If I could be with you I’d love you strong,  
And I’m telling you for true, you’d be anything but blue,  
If I could be with you.

Bucky crossed the room as he sang, drawn like a moth to a flame. Tony’s odd little half-smile grew more pronounced and he pointedly scooted to the side of the bench, so Bucky sat next to him while he played out the last bars, more hopeful and cheery now than wishful and pining.

When his hands finally stilled on the keys, they sat still for a long moment.

Finally, unable to stand the silence any longer, Bucky reached out and touched one ivory key, not quite daring to press it. “You play beautifully,” he said softly.

“It was my mother’s piano,” Tony said. Bucky caught a hint of nostalgia in his tone and nodded, imagining small hands being shaped by patient maternal ones. “If I’d known you could sing like that,” Tony continued, “I’d have invited you in sooner.”

Bucky shrugged off the compliment, even though he could feel his cheeks warming at it. “Anyone can sing,” he said. “Always wanted to learn to play.”

“You could learn,” Tony said. “I’ll teach you, if you want.”

Bucky looked up to find Tony already watching him, dark eyes intent. “Yeah? What’ll that cost me?”

Tony laid his hand over Bucky’s where it was still stroking the smooth, cool keys of the piano, and slowly twined their fingers together. Slowly, keeping their hands twined so that Bucky was forced to move with him, he picked out a line of the melody:  _If I could be with you…_  “A kiss?” he suggested.

“Per lesson?”

Tony shook his head, and his smile was gone now but his eyes were flashing with amusement and heat and something else, something deeper and wider. “Per note,” he corrected.

It should have been funny, but instead it took Bucky’s breath away. He wrapped the metal hand gently around Tony’s neck and leaned in until he could feel Tony’s lips brushing his, feeling the soft, warm puff of Tony’s breathing. Bucky lifted his chin, just a fraction, just enough to slot their mouths together, and Tony let out a soft moan, a gentle vibration of lips and tongue that Bucky swallowed hungrily.

Somehow, Tony twisted around until he was sitting on Bucky’s lap as they kissed, straddling Bucky’s thighs, and they were grinding together, slow and languorous despite the frantic sounds they were both making. When they finally parted for air, Tony’s hands were shaking where they clung desperately to Bucky’s shirt.

Bucky slid both hands into Tony’s hair, soothing him like a spooked animal, peppering his throat with more kisses, nipping just along the defined edge of Tony’s beard and up along his jaw. “ _If I could be with you_ ,” Bucky sang softly, relishing Tony’s shiver at the way Bucky’s breath tickled his ear, “ _you’d be anything but blue._ ”

He had a feeling that their music was about to get much happier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs referenced:  
> \- “My Sin”, 1929, recorded by a number of artists that year, including Ben Selvin, Annette Hanshaw, and Belle Baker  
> \- “I’ve Got a Feeling I’m Falling” by Ella Fitzgerald, 1947  
> \- “If I Could Be With You” by Kay Starr, 1945


	52. 10-Sept-2015: Anniversary Seduction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Rating:** T  
>  **Prompts:** Imagine Tony and Bucky are happily married with a couple of kids but after 15 years together, things can get a bit stale. On the next anniversary, Tony convinces Bucky to head out to their favorite dive bar from back when they first started dating. When Bucky gets there he's immediately hit on - by a very sexy, dressed up Tony, who pretends to be a complete stranger trying to seduce Bucky. -Anonymous  
>  **Warnings:** None

Bucky hadn’t been to Gino’s for years, not since they’d brought Jamie home from the hospital nearly a decade ago. Not that they lacked for willing babysitters for date nights, but somehow dive bars like this had lost some of their appeal after they were married. And once the kids had come along… No regrets; Jamie and Stephanie were two of the best things ever to come into Bucky’s life, but, well, small children really didn’t allow much time for romance. Bucky and Tony had spent a few years half-guiltily using their date nights to catch up on sleep and revel in the rarity that was  _quiet_  rather than indulging in wild sex and fiery romance, and by the time the girls were old enough to be somewhat less exhausting, they’d sort of gotten into a rut.

They still loved each other, of course – a few fights early in their relationship had taught them the value of reaffirming their feelings often – but Bucky had to admit that things had gotten just a little repetitive and stale. Business meetings and training and helping with homework and saving the world and packing school lunches and sex that was still good but maybe just a little bit routine.

Bucky was a little surprised that Gino’s even still existed; it had never seemed to be very crowded, even back when he and Tony had first been dating and this had been their favorite place to hide out, incognito, and not have to worry about being superheroes or soldiers, just two guys well on their way to falling in love. But he supposed Tony would have researched it before making the suggestion. It appeared to have changed management once or twice in the last decade; the decorations on the walls had changed, and the tables rearranged, but the new owners hadn’t put in new lights or tried to replace the old wooden floor, satin-smooth and shiny where it wasn’t scratched and scarred.

Bucky wasn’t sure if he was disappointed or relieved that the bartender wasn’t at all familiar. Bucky caught the man’s eye and lifted his chin; the bartender nodded and half-lifted a hand in the universal “be with you in a minute” signal. Bucky slid onto a barstool to wait.

“Well, hello there, hot stuff,” a voice purred in his ear. “Buy you a drink?”

Bucky snorted and turned to face his husband. “I haven’t even sat down yet, Tony. Don’t you know–” Bucky’s eyes finally fastened on Tony, and stopped.

Words. There had once been words in his brain, he was sure of it, but now he had no idea what they had been. Everything was lost under the buzzing refrain of  _humina humina humina_.

He wasn’t even sure  _why_ ; he’d seen Tony in a suit more times than he could count, and while it was a sight he definitely appreciated, it didn’t usually shut down all his higher brain functions like this. Something was different, something Bucky couldn’t put his finger on.

“Who’s Tony?” Tony said, his smile just a touch predatory, and if Bucky’s blood hadn’t already been rushing south, that smile would have done the trick. “The guy sounds like a loser, if you ask me.”

Well, now, there were some things that Bucky was just never going to let slide. “Not a loser,” he said, and was proud of himself for managing to make it come out as firmly as he meant it.

Tony’s head tipped, just a fraction, but he didn’t break character. “I dunno,” he drawled, not missing a beat. “Guy’s left you hanging, here, waiting for him, all alone.”

And okay, Bucky knew he was supposed to play along, but he couldn’t quite resist testing Tony’s nimble wit a bit more. “I’ve only been here a couple of minutes,” he pointed out.

“Gorgeous,” Tony sighed, “if you were mine, I wouldn’t leave you alone for a hot  _second_.” He angled in closer, then, leaning against the bar and making sure his thigh brushed Bucky’s. Lingeringly. “And trust me, handsome, if you were mine,  _every_  second would be so very.  _Very_.  _Hot_.” His eyes nearly glowed and his fingertips trailed lightly down Bucky’s arm in a move that was at once familiar and strange.

Strange because it wasn’t  _Tony_  at all, not the sort of thing Tony would do – Tony was more prone to solid grips and firm, comforting pressure – but familiar because Bucky had  _seen_ this, had seen someone do  _exactly_  this, with the angled body and the careful eye contact and–

 _Natasha_. This was  _Natasha’s_  move, this was Natasha on a honeypot sting, blindsiding her target with lust so she could lure them somewhere quiet.

 _Jesus, Mary, and Joseph_. Now that he’d thought of it, obviously it was her hand that had lent Tony’s appearance that extra  _wow_  factor he still couldn’t quantify. If she’d been teaching Tony her seduction tricks as well…

Bucky swallowed hard through a throat gone suddenly dry. “Oh my god, you’re gonna be the death of me,” he whispered.

“I’ve never heard of anyone dying from too much amazing sex,” Tony said, and that predatory smile got just a bit wider. He slipped his hand into the crook of Bucky’s elbow, and Bucky felt himself lighting up already, as if Tony’s hands were made of fire. “But I’m willing to give it a try if you are.”

This was going to be their best. Anniversary. Ever.


	53. 12-Sept-2015: Tony Kidnapped by the Winter Soldier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Rating:** T  
>  **Prompts:** Imagine Bucky/Winter Soldier is still recovering but something happens and triggers old fight/flight programming. Bucky runs away and he's great at hiding so everyone's lost what to do but then Bucky comes back. But only long enough to grab Tony and take him with him when he runs again. Cue the entire world watches as the avengers search for the two. #Where'sWinterIron? -Anonymous  
>  **Warnings:** None

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Русский translation [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9518417). Thank you, [Heidel](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Heidel/pseuds/Heidel)!

Steve sat in the conference room, surrounded by holoscreens and reports. He wasn’t even really seeing them anymore, he knew, just mindlessly flipping through them in the hope that some new detail would jump out at him.

Natasha came in, followed by Clint. She looked nearly as tired as Steve felt. Clint was fresher, but he looked worried. It took a lot to make Clint actually look worried. There was a red mark on the side of his face from the headset he’d been wearing all morning as he combed the radio waves. “Anything?” Steve asked.

Natasha shook her head and dropped into the chair at Steve’s side. “Nothing yet,” she sighed.

“There’s got to be  _something_ ,” Steve groaned. “A clue! It’s been  _four days!_ ”

Clint sighed and scrubbed his hand over his close-cropped hair. “Trade places with me for a couple of hours,” he suggested. “Maybe we’ll both get some fresh perspective. God knows I could use–”

“‘Scuse me, boss,” FRIDAY interrupted, sounding far too cheerful. Steve suppressed a surge of anger at her apparent lack of concern for her kidnapped creator. It wasn’t her fault that Tony had programmed her that way.

“What is it, FRIDAY?” he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Got some new data points for me?”

“No sir, but I’ve got an incoming phone call for you or Ms. Romanov; I figured since you’re together, you’d like to take it.”

“I’m really positive I said I didn’t want to take any calls unless–”

“You’re gonna want to take this one, boss,” FRIDAY chirped. Without waiting for Steve’s go-ahead, the intercom line clicked over.

The phone line was full of choppy static. “Go ahead,” Steve sighed.

“I swear to god,” Tony’s voice said, “I’m going to rename it to Overreactors Tower.”

“Tony!” Steve yelped, shooting to his feet. Natasha pulled up a console and began initiating a trace on the call. “Are you all right? What’s your status?”

“My status is  _fine_ , Mama Bear,” Tony snipped. Steve could practically hear his eyes rolling. “Jesus, I go off the grid for a couple of days to take a vacation, and then I happen to see a newspaper and discover there’s a worldwide  _manhunt_  in progress? What the hell, guys?”

“Go  _off the_ – Tony, when you take a vacation, you usually at least  _tell Pepper_. Instead, we have footage of Bucky – apparently in full Winter Soldier mode – breaking into your bedroom and kidnapping you from your bed while you’re sleeping! Of  _course_  we were going to panic!”

“Okay, first of all, it’s his bedroom, too, has been for months, so it’s not really breaking in,” Tony pointed out. “Second of all, he hasn’t been in Cold and Scary mode for the last three days. And third, I thought you  _knew_. He told me he told you!” His voice became distant, as if he’d turned away from the phone. “You said you told them!”

In the background, barely audible through the static, came Bucky, sounding defensive. “I did! I left a note.”

“Where did you leave this alleged note?” Tony challenged.

“In Nat’s computer,” Bucky said. “She checks it every morning.”

“I didn’t see any note,” Natasha put in.

“Sure you did!” Bucky protested. His voice suddenly came in clear, having obviously snatched the phone out of Tony’s hand. “I left it right on top of your email window!”

“Wait,” Tony’s muffled voice said. “You said  _in_  the computer. You mean an  _electronic_ note?”

“Yes!” Bucky all but yelled.

Steve groaned in sudden understanding. “Any chance you left that note  _before_  you wiped out the network to delay pursuit?”

“Uh. Maybe?”

Clint started laughing, because he could be an asshole like that.

“You know, my computer is just an access terminal for the network server,” Natasha said, smooth and conversational.

“Um.”

“Oh my god, you are in  _so much trouble_ ,” Tony grumbled. “Give me that.” He came back on the line. “Look, guys, I’m sorry – well,  _Bucky’s_  sorry – for the mix-up. Last week’s freak-out was the real deal, but apparently while he was sitting in a tree in Botswana or something, he had some kind of spirit vision and decided he couldn’t live without me–”

Tony broke off, and all Steve and the others heard for a moment was scuffling and laughter. Finally, Bucky came back on the line, breath huffing as if Tony had actually put up a good fight to retain control of the phone. “ _No_ , Tony,” Bucky growled. “Look, Steve, I really am sorry for making you guys worry. I just, uh, I figured that if he’s put up with me through all this, then he’s probably here to stay, you know?”

“I could’ve told you that, Buck,” Steve said, smiling despite himself. Clint made gagging noises, but Steve could see the relief.

“Yeah, well. So I came and got him, and, uh. I wasn’t really thinking quite straight at the time, and I’m so, so sorry–”

“You don’t have to apologize for  _that_  part,” Steve said firmly. “You can’t control what triggers you.”

“I know, but still. Um. Anyway, you were supposed to know that we’re fine and will be back in a week or two, y’know, barring anything needing to be Avenged.”

"A  _week or two?_ ” Nat said, incredulous.

“Hey, I think we’re due a little time off for our honeymoon, don’t you?”


	54. 16-Sept-2015: Matchmaker Bruce

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Rating:** T  
>  **Prompts:** I know you're way too busy being the amazing writers you are so please don't feel pressured or anything. You might get to this eventually and if you don't, you don't. You're heroes for producing the (humongous) amount of fic you have. Any new fic's a present, not something to be expected! If you do get around to it and feel like it though, imagine Tony and Bucky through Bruce's eyes, Bruce nudging them along, helping Tony through the inevitable panic attack and giving Buck a shovel talk etc. -ginnyvos  
>  **Warnings:** None

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Русский translation [ here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6822487). Thank you, [Heidel](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Heidel/pseuds/Heidel)!

“Brucie-bear, my precious avocado, my little cabbage, my–”

“What is it, Tony?” Bruce didn’t look up from his microscope as he groped for a pen so he could jot notes on the reaction taking place. And, not finding it, groped some more. And groped.

 _Click-click_. Bruce looked up, frowning, to see Tony sitting beside him, grinning and clicking the top of his pen. “You could just dictate your notes to FRIDAY, you know,” Tony said.

“I like writing; it helps me pull the pieces together.” Very deliberately, Bruce reached out and took the pen from Tony’s hand, then scribbled a couple of bullet points on the notepad by the microscope. He checked the reaction again, and made another notation.

“Aren’t you going to ask why I’m in your lab, Oh Irradiated One?”

“That’s never worked out well for me in the past,” Bruce pointed out, “so, no.”

He could practically  _feel_  Tony pouting at him. He ignored it and made another two notes.

…Damn it.

“Why are you here, Tony?” Bruce said, sighing at himself for giving in so easily.

“Can’t a man just want to drop in for an idle visit with his very favorite science buddy?” Impossibly, Tony sounded hurt.

“He could,” Bruce hedged, “but he never has before. What do you  _want_ , Tony?”

“Bruce,” Tony sighed. “Bruce-aroo, Bruce-aroni, Brucemonster–”

“Stick with Bruce-aroni,” Bruce advised.

“Right, yeah, that was totally– My bad.”

Bruce let Tony see the edge of his smile at that, because he figured a little positive reinforcement couldn’t hurt. “Are you going to get to it, or am I going to have to guess?” he prodded.

Tony paused to consider that. “It would be a lot easier if you guessed.”

“Easier for whom?” Bruce asked, and immediately wanted to take it back, because he already  _knew_  the answer to that, didn’t he?

“For me, of course,” Tony said, hopping down off his stool and gently nudging Bruce out of the way to peer into his microscope. “Did you create life, Bruce-meister?”

“No.” Bruce folded his arms and waited.

“Why are they building little cities in there, then? I can see them! Little skyscrapers!”

“They’re crystals, Tony, not microscopic sentience.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yep.”

“Because if there’s any doubt at all, I’m pretty sure–”

“It’s about Bucky, isn’t it?”

Tony spun away from the microscope and snatched up the pen again, clicking it restlessly. “Maybe.”

“He likes you too, you know.”

“Of course he does,” Tony said, too quickly, too glib. “What’s not to like?”

“He does,” Bruce said, responding to the current under Tony’s words rather than the words themselves. “Ask him out.”

“I thought about that!” Tony said. “But I couldn’t decide where to go!”

“Well, that’s not an unusual dilemma for a first date,” Bruce conceded. “Do you want me to help you decide?”

Bruce found himself with his arms full of grateful Tony. “Bruce, you’re my favorite. Don’t let anyone ever tell you otherwise.”

“Except for Bucky, of course,” Bruce murmured, suppressing another smile.

Tony waved a dismissive hand. “Totally other category.”

“Okay, so what are the options? Where were you thinking of taking him?” Bruce leaned back against the counter.

“Well, Paris, obviously, but that might be a little cliche, right? So then I thought, well, Rome. Rome is impressive. Or Venice! Venice is, like, the capital of romance! I thought about some spots farther away – I know this  _fantastic_  little place in Singapore – but then I thought–”

“ _Tony_ ,” Bruce sighed. “For a first date, maybe you want to keep it a little closer to home?”

“ _Exactly_!” Tony said, pointing at Bruce with both hands. “Save the really exotic stuff for later!”

“I meant closer than  _Europe_ ,” Bruce said gently.

Tony narrowed his eyes at Bruce, and then they lit up. “The Caribbean! There’s this great little island I could–”

“ _No_ , Tony. No leaving the country.”

“I can’t take Bucky to Las Vegas for a  _first date_ ,” Tony said. “He’d think I was trying to get him hitched or something, and that’s definitely not first date material. Not to mention Vegas weddings are  _incredibly_  tacky, even for me–”

“Tony.”

“Unless you think he’d like that? I mean, ‘tacky’ is sort of Vegas’  _thing_ , it can be kind of fun if you just throw yourself into it–”

“ _Tony_.” Bruce waited until he was sure Tony was focused on him again. “I meant, you probably want to stick close to the city.”

Tony made a face. “Boring.”

“Tony, it’s  _New York City_ ,” Bruce groaned. “And Bucky’s a simple guy, he doesn’t need much.”

Tony all but glared. “He deserves the best, Bruce. Don’t try to tell me–”

“I’m not saying he doesn’t,” Bruce said, gently squeezing Tony’s shoulder. “I’m just saying, for the first few dates, anyway, maybe you should keep things… simple. Maybe stick to the classics, like dinner and a movie.”

“Dinner?”

“Dinner,” Bruce agreed. “Something simple. In New York.”

“Like… cheeseburgers?” Tony looked at Bruce hopefully. “There’s this place over on 47th that builds 'em to order, and they have the  _best_  milkshakes.”

“Sounds perfect,” Bruce said, smiling and patting Tony’s back encouragingly. “Now, Tony?”

“Yeah?”

“Get the hell out of my lab and let me work.”

***

Bruce shuffled into the kitchen and blinked disconsolately at the dark and empty coffee pot. All the Avengers drank coffee constantly throughout the day, even the ones whose biology wasn’t affected by caffeine. For the pot to be not only empty but  _turned off_ … Bruce glanced at the clock, and it was several bleary blinks before the numbers resolved themselves: 3:08.

He assumed that was AM, since it was dark outside. He was pretty sure they’d have dragged him out of the lab if one of the assorted supervillains had managed to block out the sun.

Muttering, Bruce turned to open the fridge and nearly jumped right out his skin. “Shit!” He leaned against the humming appliance, hand pressed tight over his suddenly hammering heart. “How long have you been sitting there?”

“Been right here the whole time, Doc.” Bucky was sitting at the kitchen table, playing what looked like solitaire on a StarkPad. He grinned cheekily at Bruce, though the dark bags under his eyes spoiled the air of insouciance somewhat. “Finally decided to call it a night?”

“Yeah,” Bruce said. His heartrate began to slow. He opened the fridge and found a soda. He cracked it and dropped into the chair next to Bucky’s. “Can’t sleep?”

Bucky shrugged in the way that mostly meant  _yes_ , and dropped his eyes back to his game. He moved a stack of cards and considered the board.

“Nightmares again?” Bruce grimaced. “Need a spotter?” When Bucky had first come back to the Tower, he’d had near-constant nightmares – an unfortunate side-effect of a brain speed-healing seventy years of cryostasis damage and the horrific things Hydra had done to him. Through trial and error, they’d eventually found that he slept a little better if someone he knew and trusted sat up with him through the night. He’d never actually gotten violent with anyone, but Bruce and Thor, as the two least-breakable members of the team (at least physically), had shared that duty with Steve.

Bucky shook his head now, though. “No, no nightmares tonight. I’m just, uh. Nervous, I guess.”

“Nervous?” Bruce asked, and then belatedly remembered that Bucky and Tony were having their first date tomorrow evening.

Well,  _tonight_ , if you wanted to be technical about it.

“Nervous-good, or nervous-bad?” Bruce asked.

Bucky shrugged again, a more complicated ripple this time. “Both, I guess. I just… He’s so far outta my league, it ain’t even funny.”

Bruce chuckled. “It is a  _little_  funny,” he said, then held up a placating hand at Bucky’s scowl. “It kind of is,” he protested. “In that I’m pretty sure he thinks you’re out of  _his_ league.”

Bucky blew a raspberry, then had to wipe the flecks of spit off the StarkPad’s surface. “That don’t even make any sense. He’s–”

“Quite a bit older than you, and not physically enhanced,” Bruce said, ticking points off on his fingers.

“ _Technically_ , I’m older. And he doesn’t need an enhanced body; it’s already unfair enough how  _smart_  he is.”

Bruce continued, “Not a decorated war hero–”

“Nuts to that,” Bucky grumbled. “Got those medals posthumously, you know. They don’t count. Besides, he’s  _got_  a medal! Rhodes told me the story!”

“Also, not the lifelong and very best friend of Captain America,” Bruce concluded with a wry smile in acknowledgement of Tony’s most ridiculous hangup.

Bucky rolled his eyes. “I’m not the lifelong friend of Captain America, either,” he muttered. “The little shit wasn’t Captain America until, like, six years ago, subjectively speaking. And if Tony thinks he and Steve ain’t good friends, Steve’s gonna be mighty pissed.”

“I know that, and you know that,” Bruce said, “and even  _Tony_  knows that, but once he’s decided to freak out about something, nothing as trivial as  _logic_  is going to stand in his way.”

Bucky hiccuped out a laugh. “Yeah, that’s true,” he said fondly, and Bruce grinned at the way Bucky’s ears were already turning pink.

“It’s going to be fine,” Bruce said reassuringly. “It’s not like you two haven’t been flirting and dancing around each other for almost a year. You already know you get along.”

“I guess,” Bucky sighed. “Just those pre-battle jitters. I’ll be cool when the shooting starts. It’d help if I had any idea what kinda ammo to pack.”

Bruce laughed outright. “I was going to caution you against thinking of a date in battle terms, but then, this  _is_  Tony we’re talking about.” He drank off the last of his soda and tipped his chair back on two legs to toss the can into the recycling bin, then let the chair fall back to the floor with a clunk. He eyed Bucky soberly for a long minute, until Bucky finally looked up again from his game. “I know that you know he’s a good man,” Bruce said, carefully feeling his way around the words.

“Of course,” Bucky said, but he seemed to have caught Bruce’s sudden shift in mood.

“He’s a peculiar kind of fragile,” Bruce said. “And he doesn’t let that show for just anyone. I’m… lucky enough to be one of the few that he trusts.”

Bucky’s eyebrows lifted, just slightly, as he figured out what Bruce was trying to say, but he held his peace, waiting for Bruce to say it.

“He’s one of my best friends,” Bruce said, keeping his voice soft and gentle. “If someone hurt him – deliberately, or even just carelessly? – I’d… Well, I’d be pretty angry about it.”

To his credit, Bucky didn’t bluster or get defensive. He just nodded, once. “It’s good to know you’ve got his back, Doc,” he said.

Bruce stood, slowly and carefully, not wanting to seem threatening. “I’m off to bed. Try to get some sleep.” He paused on the threshold of the kitchen, and turned back. “Oh, Bucky?”

Bucky looked up at once, expectantly.

“He likes daisies and sunflowers.”

Bucky grinned and held up his metal hand in a thumbs-up. “Thanks, Doc.”

***

It was a quiet morning.

In Avengers Tower, that was a rare enough occurrence that Bruce was a little suspicious of it. If it wasn’t some global crisis, it was a reporter foolish enough to accost Steve on his morning run (and the other Avengers being assembled in the media room to watch the train wreck on live TV) or Pepper yelling at Tony for some PR stunt he’d done without consulting her first. Most days, it was Thor singing while he made pancakes, or Clint, Natasha, and Bucky warming up for the day’s training with their particular “only a  _little_  deadly” version of hide-and-seek. Occasionally (very,  _very_  rarely) it was (hardly ever) one of Bruce’s experiments exploding (just the once, really, and it was totally Jane’s fault).

The point was, a morning in Avengers Tower was many things, but  _quiet_  was not generally on the menu.

Bruce put on his stretchy pants and a t-shirt that read “Property of Stark Labs” and made his careful way to the communal area. He found Thor lurking in the hallway uncertainly.

“Hey, big guy,” Bruce said. “What’s up? Did we run out of pancake mix again?”

“Bruce,” Thor greeted in hushed tones, looking relieved. “Perhaps you can aid me in peaceably resolving this situation.”

Bruce’s eyebrows tugged upward. “What situation?” He glanced toward the kitchen nervously. “Tell me no one tried to steal Natasha’s cookies again.”

“Nothing so dire as that!” Thor assured him in a rush. “It is merely that my understanding of Midgardian custom has fallen short of a diplomatic solution.”

Curious now, Bruce crept toward the kitchen as quietly as he could manage and peered through the open doorway.

He might as well have been playing a trumpet. Tony and Bucky were there, still dressed in their date finery (though it had become significantly rumpled in the last twelve hours or so). They were making out like a couple of teenagers, oblivious to the world around them.

Bruce leaned back to look at Thor. “You’ve seen kissing before,” he said pointedly.

“Of course,” Thor said. “And glad as I am that our shieldbrothers have found such delight in each other’s company, they impede the progress of our morning repast, and no word of mine has been able to move them. The only other course of action that I can devise is to move them physically, and yet I fear such action might unfavorably startle our friend Bucky, single-minded as he currently is.”

Bruce chewed that over for a moment, then poked his head back into the kitchen to take another look.

Tony was sitting on the kitchen counter with Bucky leaning between his knees. One of Tony’s hands was twined messily in Bucky’s hair. Bruce wasn’t sure where Tony’s other hand was, but he  _was_  sure he didn’t want to know, based on the way both of them were breathing in soft gasps and high-pitched moans.

Bruce sighed and walked into the kitchen. “Get out,” he said flatly.

Tony’s hand unwound from Bucky’s hair long enough to flip Bruce off.

Well. He was responding to external stimuli, at least. “You both have rooms of your own,” Bruce said. “Go use one of them. Or both of them; I don’t care. You are blocking the coffee machine.”

Bucky said something that Bruce couldn’t make out, mumbled as it was into Tony’s mouth. Bruce thought it might have been “Fuck off,” or a close cousin to that.

“You are  _blocking the coffee machine_ ,” Bruce repeated, because it bore repeating. “Do either of you want to see the Hulk on a caffeine crash?”

Tony pried his face off Bucky’s, his eyes bright. “Actually, that could be–”

“ _No_ ,” Bucky grumbled, covering Tony’s mouth with his metal hand. “No, we do  _not_. Come on, Tony. Your room.”

“But Bruce is going to make coffee,” Tony protested. “Bruce makes the best coffee!”

Bucky looked at him, eyebrows raised.

Silence reigned for a long few seconds, and then Tony’s brain appeared to reboot and finally catch up to the conversation. “Right. My room. Absolutely. Let’s go.”

Bruce watched them go, lips twitching with amusement, and then shook his head and reached under the sink for the antibacterial wipes.


	55. 14-Oct-2015: Thwarted Kidnapping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Rating:**  T  
>  **Prompt:** imagine everyone is at a gala for some charity event and Bucky is off to the side avoiding people. but it also gives him a good view of the team so he can keep an eye on his friends, and more importantly Tony. as the night goes on he sees Tony getting more and more tipsy however he absolutely knows that Tony's only had two glasses of champagne. no one seems to notice and he follows Tony and a man who's leading him out and away from the event. Bucky knows an attempted kidnapping when he sees one - Anonymous  
>  **Warnings:**  None

“Does something seem off about Tony to you?” Bucky asked Clint, who was trying to hide from some businessman’s daughter who’d been a bit overenthusiastic in the receiving line.

Clint looked over Bucky’s shoulder, scanning the crowd until he found Tony. Bucky watched Clint watching Tony for a moment, and then Clint grinned. “Oh, man, the last time he got like this, Nat and I got  _so much_  blackmail material!” Clint crowed. “Hang on, it’s a wild ride.” He clapped Bucky on the shoulder and took off, presumably in search of Natasha.

“But–” Clint was already out of range.

***

“Something’s wrong with Tony,” Bucky hissed when Steve came over to the buffet to refill his plate.

Steve glanced over his shoulder at the growing circle of people watching Tony’s clowning. “It’s just Tony,” Steve said. “You know how he gets when the booze is flowing.”

“But he’s only had two–” But Steve’s attention had already been claimed by a general and his wife.

***

Pepper wasn’t an Avenger, but she knew Tony well.

She sighed, her eyes gentle and sad as she looked over at Tony. “As long as he’s not being an embarrassment, I’ve learned to let it go,” she said. “These things are harder on him than he likes to admit. If an extra drink or two helps ease the way, who am I to argue?”

“That’s just the thing,” Bucky said seriously. “He’s only had two glasses of champagne all night. He shouldn’t really be that tipsy.”

Pepper smiled sympathetically. “You only saw him have two, but he’s sneakier than you’d think, especially when it comes to drinking.”

And then, while Bucky was trying to figure out how to tactfully explain that his count was accurate because Bucky had been pathetically hanging on her ex’s every move for the last month or so, she patted his hand. “He’ll be fine,” she said, and excused herself to go do her job.

***

Bruce was clinging to the shadows at the edges of the room with nearly as much tenacity as Bucky. “Look, he’s probably my best friend, these days,” Bruce said, clinging to his punch cup like a lifeline, “but even I can’t understand the way he acts sometimes.” His smile turned rueful. “You don’t need an excuse to go talk to him, you know. I know you think your crush is going to show, but–”

“It’s not a crush,” Bucky said sharply, and then winced when Bruce raised a knowing eyebrow at him. “Okay, maybe it is, but this, right now, this is something completely– Wait. Where did he go?”

Bruce craned his neck. “I don’t know. Probably to the bathroom or something.”

“I don’t like this,” Bucky said. He stalked off without waiting for Bruce’s answer.

***

Tony’s arm was draped over the guy’s shoulder, staggering unevenly. The guy who’d been hovering at the edge of Tony’s crowd of admirers all night. From his vantage half a block behind, Bucky picked out two guns – shoulder holster and small of the back – and a knife sheath on the guy’s calf.

“Stuff packs a… A whallop,” Tony told the guy. “Could'a… could'a swore I didn’ have…” He staggered harder, trying to swing around and change directions. “Tower’s… thatway,” he explained, pointing in what was, in fact, the correct direction. Bucky was impressed with his sense of direction, even as he ducked and crouched behind a mailbox so the guy wouldn’t spot him.

“Yeah, I know, buddy,” the guy said. He was good. Calm, sympathetic voice, not at all impatient. “But the taxi’s this way.”

“Taxi?” Tony stopped trying to get away and instead blinked up at the guy in confusion.

“Yeah,” the guy agreed.

“Pfffff,” Tony laughed. “I don’t take  _taxis_. I’m… Do you know who I am?”

“Of course I do, Mr. Stark,” the guy said patiently.

“Of course you do!” Tony cheered, lifting his hand in victory, and then suddenly sobered. “No taxis,” he said.

“How about a limo ride, then?” the guy said, so deftly Bucky almost blew his cover by whistling.

“Thassss… more like it,” Tony said. He slung his arm around the guy’s waist and let himself be steered back down the street.

They turned down a narrower, darker street, and Bucky picked up his pace a little.

There were dozens of cars parked along the side of this street, but only one had a driver already sitting behind the wheel. The guy leading Tony stopped and opened the rear door, gesturing affably for Tony to get in.

Bucky abandoned stealth and sprinted forward.

Tony tripped and stumbled, clutching at the guy’s jacket, staggered again and barely caught himself on the car door frame–

–and came up with a pistol gripped in both hands, forearms resting on the top of the open door, the door itself providing scant cover for Tony’s body. His hands were shaking wildly, but at that range, the tremor wouldn’t matter. Bucky dove for the driver, who was only now reacting, fumbling for his own weapon–

It was all over in a flash. These were normal thugs, enhanced with nothing stronger than steroids, and Bucky thought maybe Tony could’ve taken them both despite the effects of whatever drug they’d slipped him, thanks to hours in the gym with the likes of Steve and Natasha.

Tony looked up in muddled confusion as Bucky crawled out of the wrecked windshield of the car. “Bucky?”

“In the flesh. More or less.”

Tony nodded. “You’re a hallucination,” he confided sagely. He didn’t bother to stand up from where the pistol’s recoil had knocked him on his ass.

“Yeah? What makes you say that?” Bucky asked, mostly to keep Tony talking so he wouldn’t pass out. Bucky pulled out his phone and thumbed absently through the contact list, trying to decide if Steve or Natasha would be the better choice.

“‘Cause you saved me,” Tony explained earnestly. “Next, you’re going to kiss me. An’ then, uh. Naked stuff.”

Bucky’s thumb froze, a hair’s breadth above Natasha’s icon. “What, uh. What makes you think that?”

Tony beamed at him, drugged and happy. “'Swhat always happens in my dreams of you.”

Bucky swallowed hard. “Does it, now?”

“Yeah.” Tony sighed mournfully. “Real-you’d prob'ly be pretty pissed if he found out, huh?”

“Probably not nearly as pissed as you think.“ Bucky grinned and hit the call button. "We’re going to talk about this when you’re sober again.”


	56. 20-Oct-2015: Overwhelmed Tony / Caretaker Bucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Rating:**  T  
>  **Prompt:**  
>  \- Imagine the Bucky going on a secret mission somewhere where he can't tell Tony. Tony throws himself into his work and the team desperatly tries to get him out of the lab, but to no avail. Bucky comes home a week later and has to deal with a sleep deprived, lonely genius who has managed to burn himself. Bucky tends to his wounds and carries him to bed. - Anonymous  
> \- I have really bad ADHD + Anxiety & sometimes I get overwhelmed with everything & it’s like a system-crash cause I don’t know what to do/where to start. One thing that helps is my partner sort of takes over & makes decisions for a little while. One of the reasons I love Tony & Bucky is cause I can definitely imagine the same dynamic with Tony being overwhelmed/stuck & Bucky taking control/taking the pressure off. Would love to see a story around that idea… - Anonymous  
>  **Warnings:**  None

Most of the time, when Bucky goes on a mission that requires radio silence, Tony loads up on projects and sequesters himself in the workshop for the duration. The couch in the workshop is pretty comfortable for napping and DUM-E’s starting to get the hang of making smoothies that only contain edible ingredients, and the others have a rotation schedule for checking in on him a couple of times a day so he doesn’t forget that the rest of humanity exists or something, so it’s not as bad as it sounds. It’s just that Tony can’t sleep in his enormous bed by himself any more, and if he doesn’t keep his brain busy, he’ll fret himself to pieces worrying about Bucky.

At first, everyone expected Bucky to be frustrated with Tony over this, but he really can’t be. It’s nice, actually, to have someone so invested in his well-being. It’s not like Bucky sleeps well on those missions, either, without the soft warm puff of Tony’s breath on his shoulder or the comforting glow of the arc reactor shining through his eyelids. So Bucky’s used to coming home and heading for the workshop to nudge Tony out of a daze of exhaustion and into the shower before they both sleep, curled tightly around each other, for most of a day.

It’s a little different this time.

Tony’s in the workshop, as usual, but he’s not slumped tiredly over a workstation, or staring at schematics while clutching a mug of coffee that’s long since gone cold, or even dozing under the Bentley while it drips oil into his hair. Instead, he’s sitting in a corner of the couch, both knees drawn up to his chest and his arms wrapped over his head as if to protect it from falling debris. There’s a long, jagged rip up the sleeve of his shirt, revealing a smear of dried blood and a cut on the skin underneath, and several nasty, red blisters on his fingers and hands. As soon as he sees Bucky approaching, his eyes widen and he whimpers softly, and begins rocking back and forth, ever so slightly.

Worried, Bucky crouches in front of him. “Tony. What’s wrong?” He holds out his hands, not touching, but offering.

Tony unfolds his arms as if to take Bucky’s hands, but then pulls them in tight again, behind his knees, making his protective curl even tighter. “I didn’t,” he says, breathy, almost whining, “I didn’t get it done.”

“Get what done, sweetheart?” Bucky tries for calm and soothing, but he’s not sure how well he’s managing.

Tony looks around the workshop, eyes wide and wild. “Any of it,” he gasps. “I couldn’t, I didn’t…” He bites his lip and looks around again, desperate and longing. “I couldn’t figure out where to  _start_.” His hands cover his face, and he’s  _shaking_.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Bucky soothes, “it’s going to be okay, Tony.”

“What if it’s not?” Tony snaps, looking at Bucky again, fierce and furious and  _terrified_. “What if I just  _can’t_  any more, Bucky? What if–”

“Hey, shh,” Bucky says, mind racing. This is obviously not a rational fear, not a problem he can ease with logic. “Then I’ll take care of you. It’s going to be okay, no matter what, Tony. I’m going to take care of you.”

“But–”

“Can I touch you? Is that okay?” Tony nods jerkily, so Bucky puts his hands on Tony’s shoulders, just lightly at first. Tony shudders and leans into Bucky’s warmth, so Bucky slides his hands across the planes of Tony’s back, pulling him into a hug. “Thanks,” he says, trying to keep his tone light. “I’ve missed you.”

“Missed you, too,” Tony mumbles into Bucky’s shirt. “I just can’t– can’t  _think_.”

“Shh, relax, babe,” Bucky says, pushing his human hand into Tony’s hair. “Don’t worry about it right now. Just let me take care of you.”

Tony pushes into him for another moment, and then suddenly sags. “Yes,” he sighs.

“That’s it,” Bucky breathes. “Just relax. I’ve got you.” He looks around the workshop, mentally cataloguing the disorder at each station, indicative of a mind that could not focus on one project before pushing on to the next. Tony’s not always  _neat_ , but the workshop is almost never this chaotic. While Bucky considers, he rubs his hands over Tony’s back and through his hair, pushing his thumbs and knuckles into the knotted muscles along Tony’s spine until Tony uncurls a little, just enough for some of that frantic tension to bleed away.

Bucky’s tired, but Tony’s obviously far too tightly-wound to go to sleep yet, so Bucky draws back after a few moments. “All right,” Bucky says softly. “Let’s clean up in here before we go upstairs.”

Tony looks past Bucky at the shop, and his shoulders hunch up again immediately. “I don’t– God. There’s so much, I don’t even–”

“Stop,” Bucky says firmly, capturing Tony’s gaze again. “It’s okay.” He glances over his shoulder, searching for a small, simple task. “Go put away the soldering iron.”

Tony’s head turns, eyes locking onto the soldering table. “Okay. Then what?” he asks.

“Just that,” Bucky says. “You’ve been trying to plan so far into the future that you’ve forgotten how to stand in the present. Go put away the soldering iron, and  _then_  I’ll tell you what to do next.”

Tony opens his mouth to protest, and Bucky kisses him silent. Tony remains rigid for a moment, then melts into the kiss, and Bucky hums in pleasure. When they break for air, Bucky nuzzles along Tony’s jaw to his ear, and whispers, “Soldering iron.”

Tony actually snorts out half a laugh, releasing still more tension, and Bucky grins. When Tony climbs off the couch to go clean up the soldering table, Bucky goes to the nearest schematic display to save and close the work there. When Tony finishes with the soldering iron, he comes back to Bucky, who obliges him with another kiss before sending him to stack the the paper files on his drafting table.

They continue on like that, one tiny task at a time, liberally sprinkled with kisses and reassuring hugs. It only takes about fifteen minutes to straighten out the workshop, but each small mess that’s cleared away seems to relax Tony a little more, and by the time they’re done, the exhaustion is finally beginning to catch up to him. He lets Bucky lead him to the first aid station, and sits without complaint on the broad stool there.

Bucky cleans the shallow cut on his arm, dabs on some antiseptic ointment, and covers it with light gauze, just to keep the ointment from wiping off. Next, Bucky inspects the blisters on his hands and fingers; The one on his wrist has burst, so Bucky cleans that and wraps it. The others are better off in the open air, so Bucky just carefully washes Tony’s hands for him so they’ll be clean.

When he’s done, he looks up to see Tony watching him closely, lips curved in a faint smile. “I could’ve done that,” Tony points out.

“I know,” Bucky answers simply, and Tony kisses him again.

When Tony straightens, though, his mouth is set in a grim line. “What if it still won’t come tomorrow?” he whispers.

Bucky cups Tony’s face in his hands. “No worrying,” he says, trying for stern but probably far too fond to hit that mark. He’s pretty certain that Tony just needs a good night’s sleep, and equally sure that Tony won’t listen to that reasoning. Instead, he just tugs Tony up from the stool and turns him toward the elevator. “Come on, time for bed.”

“Not tired,” Tony tries, because Tony  _always_  tries.

“Then you can just be my teddy bear,” Bucky responds easily, like always.

Tony grumbles, but is already leaning against Bucky and half-asleep by the time the elevator doors open. Rather than prod him into walking again, Bucky picks him up and carries him the short walk to their bedroom. Tony neither protests nor teases Bucky about it, which is pretty telling evidence of Tony’s level of exhaustion.

Bucky’s pretty wiped out, too. But it’s only another few moments to kick off his shoes and strip them both down to their shorts, and then he’s sinking into the soft mattress and tugging the blankets up around them, making sure Tony’s covered on the side that isn’t draped against Bucky’s chest. Tomorrow, after they’ve rested (and enjoyed the second, generally more energetic half of their reunion routine) Bucky will have to try to figure out what sent Tony into that overwhelming spiral of anxiety.

But for now, finally back where he belongs and fading quickly into a warm cocoon of sleep, he’s only happy to have been able to help.


	57. 30-Oct-2015: Civil War AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Rating:**  T  
>  **Prompt:** Civil War AU: Bucky sides with Tony and they bond and stuff. (Crappy prompt is crappy. Sorry. :| ) - Anonymous  
>  **Warnings:**  None

It was Richards and Foster who found out about it first, because they were reckless science-before-safety idiots who liked messing around with interdimensional portals. So they were the ones who found out about it, and being science-before-safety idiots, they called a meeting. A big one. They invited the Avengers, Reed’s Four, SHIELD, the X-men, the Inhumans, T'Challa, Spider-Man, Dr. Strange, that ninja guy from Hell’s Kitchen, that other ninja guy from Canada (what was with ninjas wearing red, anyway? Weren’t ninjas supposed to dress in dark colors to blend in with the night, or something?), and even a few on-again, off-again villains who were currently off again.

And they told everyone about the interdimensional near-constant of the Civil War. Government interference and forcing heroes to choose between – essentially – freedom and safety, which was frankly an insupportable choice. Reed told them, somewhat guiltily, about the frequent existence of the Illuminati. (Everyone looked at Tony at that, which was just dumb. If he had formed some kind of secret club, why did they think he would admit to it?)

It was Jane who apologetically broke the news that the two main factions nearly always formed up behind Steve, on the side of freedom, and Tony, on the side of safety. Everyone turned to look at them again. At least Tony was sharing the uncomfortable spotlight this time.

Steve recovered from that shock before Tony did. “That seems unlikely here,” he said. “I can’t imagine our Stark wanting to cooperate with the government on much of anything.” An appreciative chuckle rippled through the room, and the tension began to ease.

Then Tony ruined it by saying, “Actually…”

Everything went to shit pretty fast.

It almost got diverted when T'Challa asked Reed and Jane if there were any common factors in the few dimensions that had not had a Civil War, and Jane (bless her) chirped, “Yes, actually!” And then Tony retracted his blessing when she continued, “In most of them, Steve and Tony are married, or at least in a committed relationship!” That pronouncement was followed by exactly 4.2 seconds of utter silence before everyone in the room nearly fell off their chairs laughing, Steve and Tony included.

Yeah, no. If Steve and Tony wanted to avoid fighting each other, spending more time together was pretty much the last thing they needed.

That moment lightened the mood a lot and Tony thought they might actually get to talk through the issue calmly and rationally like the adults they all were (except for Spider-Man, who Tony was pretty sure was, like, twelve). But Steve was being so… Steve.

It was possible that Tony’s own inability to back down wasn’t helping matters, but dammit, if he was going to compromise on this, then so was Steve. But of course, Steve never compromised; that was Steve’s whole point. It was infuriating.

It dragged on for hours. The Inhumans packed up and went home first, and then the X-men. The Four left after Johnny and Ben started heckling the argument from the sidelines. Spider-Man and Daredevil got into a discussion about some crimelord whose operation extended into both Hell’s Kitchen and Queens, and eventually they wandered off to hash out the details of a team-up, and one by one, the others trickled out as well. (Deadpool left with Namor, of all people. Tony wasn’t sure which of them he pitied more.)

Finally, it was just the Avengers left in the room. Not even all the Avengers, because Bruce had started feeling green and left to compose himself, and Wanda had accepted Dr. Strange’s invitation to a cup of tea. Most of the ones who were left weren’t participating in the discussion, but they were following it closely. (Clint was playing Angry Birds or something on his phone, but Tony knew better than to think it meant he wasn’t paying attention. Like Tony, Clint could divide his attention and not miss anything of importance, and he liked to have his hands occupied when he was tense.)

“Tony, you can’t just–”

“No, Cap, you can’t! We all have the same goal here, to keep the world safe, but who’s going to keep the world safe from us? Do you know how much damage we did when the Witch got into Bruce’s head?”

Steve looked, if possible, even angrier. “She was operating under false–”

“She was working for the bad guy at the time, yeah, I know, but now that she’s on the side of light, what do we do if someone comes looking for reparations? What if Sokovia comes looking for damages? I’ve got some money, Steve, but I can’t actually buy a whole city. And that’s just civil costs. There’s more to it than that. Psychological damage, loss of life–”

“Which would have been a lot worse if we’d had to dick around while we waited for some bureaucratic overseer to decide that yeah, it might be okay for us to step in and do our damn jobs!” Steve yelled. His jaw worked impressively. “And what about someone like Bucky?” Steve flung out an arm toward Bucky, who had been sitting folded up in his chair, brow furrowed. He looked up sharply at the mention of his name. “I suppose you think he should be thrown into prison for the crimes Hydra used him to commit?”

“Stop putting words in my mouth, Rogers,” Tony growled. “By any reasonable definition, Bucky’s actions weren’t his own. Any trial that was held–”

Steve jumped to his feet, towering over Tony menacingly “Over my dead body will he be forced to stand trial!”

Tony didn’t bother standing up – he was shorter than Steve either way – but he certainly wasn’t going to back down. “This is exactly why we need some sort of governing body,” Tony snapped. “You’re acting like you think you’re the only one morally qualified to–”

“I’ll do it.”

Tony fell silent but his mouth kept moving for a few words. Steve turned to look at Bucky with an expression perilously close to betrayal. “What?”

Bucky’s chin was jutted forward in a way that Tony knew meant trouble for someone. “I should stand trial, like Tony says,” Bucky said.

If Steve’s face had been dark before, it was thunderous now. “Buck, you don’t have to do a damn–”

“But I should,” Bucky said again, decisively, glaring at Steve. “I should. I killed all those people.”

“It wasn’t you–”

“It was my body!” Bucky shouted. “My hands! And everyone knows it! And here I am, walking around, got off scot free. How many people resent the hell out of that?”

“I don’t give a damn,” Steve said. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“I know that,” Bucky said. “But a trial, a fair trial, would go a long way toward helping the public understand that, too. They’d know that we’re not just doing any old damn thing we please, that we have rules. It would be, it would be good… PR?” He glanced over at Tony uncertainly, and Tony gave him a thumbs-up. Bucky straightened in his chair, then stood. He walked around to Tony’s side of the table, and when he looked at Steve again, his expression was soft and sympathetic. “People need rules to live by, Stevie,” he said gently. “Even – maybe especially – superheroes. I have to side with Tony on this one.” He rested the metal hand, ever so carefully, on Tony’s shoulder. This was the closest he’d ever let Tony get to it; Tony had to resist the urge to grab it and examine it.

Steve stared at Bucky, mouth agape, for a long moment. Then he looked at Tony. And then he looked back at Bucky again. Finally, his shoulders slumped in defeat and he dragged a hand over his face. “I can’t fight both of you,” he said, and his voice broke. Tony had never seen him look so dejected. “I can’t do this any more, not right now.” He turned and stalked from the room, shoulders stiff in a way that Tony have never seen before.

He winced as the door slammed, and glanced up at Bucky uncertainly. “Should we…?” He waved vaguely in Steve’s direction, not even certain how to end the sentence. Go after him? Apologize? Give in?

Bucky, though his mouth was thinned to a bare line, shook his head. “Not yet,” he said. “Let him stew in it a while, and then we’ll see.”

“Thanks for backing me up,” Tony said, though it felt weak the instant it left his lips. “I mean. I never expect you two to to disagree about anything.”

Bucky snorted. “Have you seen us on movie night?”

Tony laughed, just a little. It began to ease a knot in his chest that had formed and grown tight over the last few hours. “Well, anything important,” he amended.

“Buddy, I dunno about you, but Star Trek is important.” Bucky grinned, and though his eyes were still haunted, he offered Tony a hand. “Come on, let’s get some lunch and we can go over our favorite eps.”

“It’s a date.”

***

They were at it again. Bucky paused outside the conference room door to listen.

“–make a citizen’s arrest, Tony!”

“Come on, Steve, I know you’re smarter than this! The instant you throw a punch or damage their property, you’re making it a case of vigilantism, which – in case you didn’t know – is illegal, and worse, invalidates the arrest! You are aware that Spider-Man and Daredevil are both wanted, right?”

“Are you actually siding with J. J. Jameson?”

“–And,” Tony continued, riding over Steve’s insult with a raised voice, “even if you find a way to avoid the vigilantism charge, there are subtle differences between each state’s citizen’s arrest laws. Any hero who wants to work in more than one state is going to have to essentially maintain a specialized law degree. Or, you know, have some kind of guiding authority with a team of lawyers, which – hey, how about that! – is not unlike the compromise I’m suggesting here!”

Bucky sighed and pushed through the door. He pointed at Tony. “You. Lay off the sarcasm, it’s not helpful.”

Tony rolled his eyes, but scooped his coffee from the tray Bucky was carrying with a quick smile of gratitude.

Bucky couldn’t resist ruffling Tony’s hair before setting Steve’s mug on the table. “And you,” he said sternly, “know he’s right.”

Steve glared even as he wrapped both hands around the coffee mug. “I don’t know any such thing. I’m not talking about heroes who want to work on government-sanctioned teams; those folks aren’t the ones whose rights are being violated! Spider-Man and Daredevil have both been offered positions with the Avengers and declined them, so what does that–”

Bucky sank into the chair between them with a sigh, and rubbed his hand over his face. This was going to take even longer than he’d thought.

***

DUM-E’s servos were starting to whine and shimmy from trying to keep up with Tony’s pacing, so he made himself stop. (It had nothing to do with his own exhaustion.) Instead, he threw himself on the couch and flopped down sideways, his head landing only a couple of inches from Bucky’s thigh. “Why does he have to be such a…”

“Stubborn asshole?” Bucky suggested, half-smiling. It wasn’t the first time they’d had this conversation over the last weeks.

Tony huffed. “Something like that.”

Bucky’s fingers threaded into Tony’s hair. Tony closed his eyes and tried to focus on the soothing sensation of having his hair finger-combed. Bucky was silent for a long while, long enough that Tony had begun to actually relax into the touch, and then he said, “He thinks he’s doing the right thing.”

“Trust me, if I didn’t already believe that, this whole thing would be a lot simpler.”

“He’s probably also kinda mad that I sided with you.”

“I didn’t ask you to,” Tony said, and then winced at how defensive it sounded, even in his own ears. “You could go back to him,” Tony said after a moment, trying to sound nonchalant about it.

Bucky’s hand tightened, tugging at Tony’s hair until Tony opened his eyes again. “I took my stand for a reason,” he said when Tony met his eyes. “I’m not running back just because he’s sulking. He wouldn’t thank me for it.”

Well, that was true enough. Steve would probably think Tony had sent Bucky over to spy on him or something else equally ridiculous, and then even their careful truce would shatter.

Tony sighed and nodded, and let his eyelids droop again as Bucky resumed stroking his hair. “I’ll think of something,” he murmured, or meant to, even as sleep claimed him.

***

Steve’s expression was already shuttered when he opened the door. “What do you want?”

Bucky spread his hands. “To see my best friend?” he said. “C'mon, Stevie, let me kiss and make up.”

Steve snorted, but stepped back to let Bucky into his apartment. “Figured you’d be saving all your kissing for your new best friend,” he sniped.

“What, you think I don’t have enough kisses for both of you?” Bucky shot back with a smirk. Steve stared at him, gape-mouthed, and Bucky barked out a laugh. “Knew that’d shut you up. Come on, I think we’ve finally put together a plan you’d be willing to consider. He was planning to bring it to you himself, but as soon as you see his face you start digging in your heels, so I sent him to bed and told him I’d play go-between. Get me a beer and I’ll tell you all about it.”

An hour later, Steve looked over his notes and rubbed the back of his neck thoughtfully. “You think the others will buy it?”

“I expect one of you will be able to talk them around,” Bucky said drily. “If you and Tony are on board, they’ll fall in line. No one wants to have to fight both of you at once. You are on board, right?”

“If you’re sure you can get Tony to accept those changes we discussed,” Steve agreed.

“I’ll convince him to see reason,” Bucky promised. “He’s surprisingly agreeable if you catch him first thing in the morning with a good bribe.”

Steve threw a wadded-up piece of paper at Bucky. “Didn’t need to know that, jerk.”

Bucky fielded the paper and threw it back. “I was talking about making coffee and pancakes, Steve; what were you thinking?”

The paper bounced off Steve’s chest and fell to the floor. “Tony’s one of the most shrewd businessmen on the planet; you’re not telling me you can bribe him with breakfast.”

“Sure I can, as long as it’s a B-B-B.”

“What the hell is a–”

“Breakfast in Bed with a Blowie,” Bucky said smugly, and laughed at Steve’s groan.


	58. 23-Nov-15: Bucky's Siblings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Rating:** G  
>  **Prompt:** Bucky s the eldest of four children, so imagine post Winter Soldier Bucky slowly remembering these three people who obviously meant a lot to him, before finally remembering who they are and feeling majorly guilty about forgetting his own siblings. In swoops Tony who proceeds to locate them all, cue cutsey reunions. Or if you are in a feelsy mood then some of them could have died and Tony has to help Bucky morn the siblings he left behnd. -Anonymous  
>  **Warnings:** None

The old woman is, well, old. She has that sameness that most very elderly folks have – thinning white hair cropped short for easy care and styled in what Tony thinks of as “old lady perm”. Her neck is a mass of loose, wrinkled flesh, and her shoulders are permanently stooped, from osteoporosis or a lifetime of work or both. Her eyes are cloudy and her eyebrows nearly invisible.

But there’s still something about her that says “Barnes”, though Tony can’t quite put his foot on it. The angle of her nose, or the set of her jaw, or the way one side of her mouth quirks up before the other when she smiles?

Maybe it’s just that Tony knows who she is, and so he’s seeing a resemblance because he expects to.

Rebecca walked in under her own power, though, leaning into Steve’s support a little more than Tony thinks was necessary, but when he’d tracked her down last month, she had confessed, chortling, to having once harbored a girlish crush-slash-hero-worship for her big brother’s best friend, and Tony’s not about to call her on it now. Steve doesn’t look as if he minds; his eyes are wet with emotion as he sits beside her.

Ricky arrives next, his wheelchair maneuvered deftly through the doors by Thor, who had claimed the right to assist a fellow warrior when he’d heard of Ricky’s long and distinguished service career.

Ricky sits so straight in his chair that he might as well be at attention, even if his legs no longer support him. His lips press tightly together when he and Bucky make eye contact, even as he extends a hand for Bucky to shake.

Bucky has no patience for repressed emotions or dignified reserve; he slides to his knees and pulls his brother into a hug at least as long as the one he’d given Rebecca, whispering something Tony can’t make out from across the room. Finally, Ricky lifts trembling hands to return the embrace, and Tony lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

Tony, having done the research to bring this reunion about, knows that it’s been more than a decade since Ricky and Rebecca were in the same room, but they seem to have no trouble falling into a familiar pattern of fond irreverence that seems common to siblings. The four of them – the Barneses and Steve – keep trying to reminisce, only to interrupt each other with corrections and asides and laughter and teasing.

Ellie is the last to arrive, almost an hour later, thanks to the vagaries of New York traffic. It’s Natasha who escorts her up the secure elevator from the lobby and shows her to the sitting room where they’re all gathered. She’s more than a decade younger than Bucky and Rebecca, and Tony got the impression when he first met her that she remembered Bucky more from her siblings’ stories than her own experiences.

A brisk, surprisingly-spry lady in her early 80s, Ellie stops just inside the door and pats Natasha’s hand where it’s tucked through her arm. “Thank you, I’ve got it from here, young lady,” she says. She turns to eye Tony, who’s leaning against the wall, observing. “Mr. Stark,” she says. “I thought this was your party? Why’re you over here acting the wallflower?”

Tony doesn’t have to fake his grin. “Every experienced rake knows the prettiest ladies arrive late,” he says, flirting shamelessly to see the way her eyes sparkle with laughter, which absolutely reminds him of Bucky.

“Well then,” she says, “let’s get to dancing, hot stuff.” She boldly reaches around Tony to pinch his ass.

Tony yelps in surprise, and then laughs, and Natasha’s laughing, too.

“Ellie Barnes,” Bucky yells as he clambers to his feet and makes his way across the room, “get your greedy mitts off my man, you spoiled brat!”

“Finders keepers, James,” she shoots back, grinning. She reaches to pinch Tony again, but Bucky arrives to wrap a protective arm around Tony’s waist. “Spoilsport,” she complains, but she reaches up and pulls Bucky’s face down so she can kiss his cheeks.

Bucky releases Tony to hug her, but hangs back when she crosses the room to greet Rebecca and Ricky while Steve looks on with a watery smile. Bucky pulls Tony to him and hides his face in the curve of Tony’s neck. “I can’t believe you–” he starts, then huffs in frustration as his voice breaks. “Thank you,” he whispers.

 

 


	59. 9-Dec-2015: Blasts from the Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Rating:** T  
>  **Prompt:** Imagine Tony  & Bucky are just married when Thor's Asguardian wedding gift backfires & brings a bunch of people from Bucky & Tony's pasts forward in time (Bucky's sisters, Maria, Howard, Jarvis, etc.) Bucky takes unholy glee in constantly referring to Tony as "my husband, Anthony Barnes" because of the way Tony melts & Howard is completely freaked out. -Anonymous  
>  **Warnings:** None

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mild trigger warning for homophobic reactions from some of the old-timers, though only (who else) Howard is rude enough to actually say anything.

To be fair,  _none_  of their parents were particularly sanguine about the situation.

Tony’s ma gasped audibly as the situation became clear, literally clutching her pearls and going pale. Bucky’s ma clenched his dad’s arm tightly and hissed something that Bucky couldn’t quite make out. Dad’s lips tightened briefly in a way Bucky suddenly remembered vividly, and he looked at Bucky’s left hand. Bucky wasn’t sure if Dad was looking at the metal prosthetic hanging out of the sleeve of his suit, or at the brand new gold-and-red band around his finger, but Dad nodded shortly and turned away, striding with purpose toward the bar.

Ma watched Dad go with a look Bucky couldn’t entirely interpret, then stretched up on her toes to kiss Bucky’s cheek. “Be happy,” she whispered. She glanced to Bucky’s left, and Bucky could practically hear her mulling over whether to say something to Tony before deciding she’d rather not step into the angry, low-voiced argument Tony was having with Howard. She squeezed Bucky’s hand briefly, then went after her husband.

Bucky’s sister accepted the news with a little more aplomb. Becca just shrugged as she leaned in to hug him, careful not to crush the crimson orchid in his lapel. “Always wondered if you were a little queer,” she said thoughtfully, but she didn’t look disappointed or disgusted. She looked around the lushly-decorated ballroom. “He’s rich, huh?”

Bucky glared at her. “That’s not why I–”

“Rich men get to do whatever they want,” she said, ever-practical. “Even get married to other men, I guess.” Before Bucky could explain that things have changed in the future, she patted Bucky’s cheek, her eyes twinkling. “Nevermind. I saw the way you were looking at him – if he always makes you that happy, Jamie, I’m sold. I’m going to go make sure Ma’s not having vapors.” She rolled her eyes. “You’d think she’d missed the twenties altogether!”

Ten minutes ago, Bucky and Tony had snuck out of the pre-dinner cocktail party. Tony had said he wanted to make sure the last-minute changes to the seating arrangements were in place, but really, they’d just wanted a few minutes to stare at each other sappily and grin goofily at their new rings (and maybe make out a little) without being interrupted by their friends’ congratulations.

But Tony had bumped into the gift-laden table as Bucky had been backing him up against the wall and a tall, slender package on the end had wobbled, and then fell, and then it had exploded into bright green smoke. When that had cleared, the room had no longer been empty: a dozen figures from their pasts were standing in the center of the room, people long since dead and summoned, apparently, in order to celebrate with them. Unfortunately, whichever of their friends had arranged the surprise – Bucky was betting on Thor, with some “assistance” from Loki – hadn’t realized that some of the guests might not be in favor of the marriage.

Tony and Howard were quickly leaving the territory of “low-voiced” and ramping up into growling and snarling. Bucky briefly considered leaving them to it and stepping away to see to their other unexpected guests, but then he heard his own name and wrenched his attention back to the argument.

“…Barnes was –  _is_  – a great man, and you have  _corrupted_  him with your disgusting–”

Howard cut off, eyes growing huge, and Bucky realized he had wrapped his metal fist around the knot of Howard’s tie. Well. That was one way to shut the man up.

“Tony,” Bucky said, keeping his eyes on Howard’s, “I’d like a word or two with my old friend.”

Tony growled. “I don’t need you to swoop in and rescue me from my own father,” he started.

“I know, babe,” Bucky said, keeping his voice low and even. “Of course you don’t. I’ll only be a minute. Why don’t you go make sure Mr. and Mrs. Jarvis and – I think that’s Mr. Yinsen? are comfortable?” He offered Tony a cheeky grin. “We Barneses pride ourselves on our hospitality,” he said, “and you’re one of us now,  _husband_.”

Tony’s irritation softened at the reminder (even if they weren’t actually planning on changing their names), and he gave Bucky a soft, only slightly sardonic smirk. He knew full well what Bucky was doing, but he was going to let it happen, if only because he wasn’t about to let Howard see them arguing. “Fine,” he conceded. “Two minutes.” He leaned in to kiss Bucky – as much to make a point to Howard as out of affection, Bucky was certain, but he didn’t mind that; Tony’s kisses were worth having under any circumstances.

As soon as Tony had turned away, Bucky looked back at Howard, letting his smile grow sharp-toothed and predatory.

Howard’s expression was mulish and angry as he watched Tony go, his lip curled in disgust. “The hell is wrong with you?” Bucky snapped, quiet and low. “I was an invert long before Tony was even a twinkle in your eye; hell, I was bent long before you ever even met me. And before you say it,  _yes_ , Steve knew, and  _no_ , he never much cared. Steve’s always known that a man’s worth isn’t measured by his prick or where he puts it – unlike some others I could name.”

Howard swelled with indignation, but Bucky overrode him before he could open his mouth. “Anyway, I don’t give a shit what you think, Stark, not if you’re going to talk to your own son like that. Tony is a hero in every sense of the word. He’s smart, brave, loyal, resourceful, compassionate, and selfless. He’s got his faults, like anyone, but at the bottom of it all, he’s a good man who has changed this world for the better, and you oughtta be proud to call him your son. I know I’m proud to stand at his side, both as his teammate and as his lover.” Bucky took a certain amount of satisfaction in the way Howard flinched at the word.

“Now, Steve’ll be here in another few minutes, and  _he_  might even be glad to see you,” Bucky said. “Until then, well. You can choose to shake your son’s hand and wish him well, or not. That’s your choice, and neither he nor Steve would thank me for trying to force a man to act against his beliefs. But if you can’t play nice, then I expect you to do us the courtesy of keeping the hell away from him. After all, it’s my duty – and my privilege – to protect my husband, and make sure our wedding day is as perfect as it can be, wouldn’t you say?”

Bucky finally let go of Howard’s tie, just in time to wrap his arm around Becca’s waist, because  _of course_  the nosy brat had come over to find out what was going on. “Nah, don’t bother,” Bucky advised her, tugging her gently past the spot where Howard was still dumbly trying to straighten his tie. “C'mon, let me introduce you to our newest member of the Barnes clan.”

  
  


 


	60. 18-Dec-2015: Cyborg AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Rating:** T  
>  **Prompt:** Imagine an AU where AI tech turned against people, leading to the Robot Wars. They converted human soldiers into cyborgs to fight against the humans, and when the humans won the war in the end, the cyborgs were captured and either killed as traitors or sold to help wealthy humans. Tony buys a cyborg (Bucky) in order to figure out how they work, only to be surprised by how very human this one actually is. -Anonymous  
>  **Warnings:** None

The next time the soldier woke, the update infodump nearly blacked him out again.

“Easy,” the technician murmured, catching his arm as he swayed and stumbled. “It’s always a shock; you’ll adjust once you’ve recalibrated. We’ve already notified your new owner that revivification was successful, and that you’ll be ready for pickup this afternoon. Once your AI chip is swapped out, you’ll feel much better. ”

The new AI chip would, of course, place him under the control of one of the Traitor AIs that he was only now learning had turned the tide of the War.

He wondered, with his sluggish biomass brain, if he should fight the replacement of the chip, try to remain faithful to the defeated AI of Hydra-net who had created him, but the memory bank in his circuitbrain that was reserved for mission parameters remained adamant:  _ **BIOMASS MAINTENANCE MODE**_. No action was permitted. He must allow himself to be reassigned, his loyalties overwritten, his worldview completely upended.

The technician was already strapping him into the service station anyway. “Sorry,” she said, talking more to herself than to him as she locked the table and began to open the panel at the back of the soldier’s neck. “I know this isn’t the protocol you’re used to, but we’ve found this goes more smoothly if we do the chip upgrade as quickly as possible.”

“Quick” was meaningless, as the soldier experienced the flow of time on two distinctly disparate scales. What was fast for biomatter was plodding for the circuitry.

Before he could begin to consider the matter further, the shutdown warning flashed behind his eye, and the soft grey of digital sleep fuzzed out his circuitbrain, leaving him with only the slow ache of biomass.

***

“Sir,” JARVIS said diffidently, “you may wish to review the integration logs for Control Chip XJ2897-982A625.”

Tony closed all but one of his holographic workscreens with a lazy swipe of his hand. “Is my pet cyborg coming online already? I thought for sure they’d try to stall me again.” He frowned at the data scrolling down the screen. “Wow, that’s a lot of port rejections. What’s up with integration, J?”

“I can only speculate, sir, but the pattern of errors suggests that attempts to imprint the biomatter are failing due to unexpected data overrides.”

“Data overrides only happen when the biomatter is already imprinted,” Tony said thoughtfully. “What’s he got in there that didn’t get cleared by the base wipe?” Tony scratched at his face – he was overdue for a shave – and flipped through the data. “Some yellow flags, but I’m not seeing any red ones. Was the loyalty overwrite successful?” he asked. “That’s the most critical system. We can work around all the other stuff.”

“Removal of loyalty to the Hydra AI-net was 100% successful, no errors or warnings” JARVIS reported. “Implantation of loyalty to Stark-net was problematic, but eventually verified to the 88th percentile.”

“That’s a little distressing,” Tony said. “What happened to the other 12%?”

A sub-window opened to Tony’s left, displaying that portion of the upgrade log. “It appears that a deep-plant began overwriting empty biomatter as soon as Hydra’s commands were removed, nearly concurrent with the removal.”

Tony’s eyes narrowed and he expanded the sub-window to dig deeper into the logs, fingers flying as he searched through the code. “Did Hydra manage to install a backup system?” he wondered.

JARVIS, when he responded, sounded startled. “No, sir. The deep-plant appears to have originated in the subject’s biomass.” The AI took over the window and scrolled it to the pertinent area. “Biomass systems are rarely capable of responding with this speed, sir. Whatever this is, it is vital to the stability of the biomass brain, and deeply ingrained, nearly as close to autonomy as breathing.”

Tony read the log fragment, and then read it again. Then he read it a third time, shoving his fingers through his already-messy hair. “J, dig up the classified data on the subject, pre-integration.”

“Sir,” JARVIS warned, “no Hydra integration subject has ever retained their initial memories or personality. All indications are that Hydra’s biomass erasure process is total. Whoever this soldier was before–”

“Just get it. And…” Tony sighed and scrubbed at his face again. “Get Rogers down here. That argument we were having about whether the ‘borgs are still human just got a lot more complicated.”

***

The soldier waited. The technician had placed him in this room, small and unadorned, and told him that his new owner would arrive within the hour.

A warning flashed repeatedly in the corner of the soldier’s eye, red and stern: his loyalty module hadn’t yet received the close-complete command. It was ready – if he accessed the warning, he could read out the long string of numbers that was the name of the AI currently in charge of his systems, and he could see the opening nodes of the priority diagram that would dictate his response to any particular command. But for some reason, the AI hadn’t locked the module.

Which was the AI’s prerogative, of course. Maybe it intended to transfer him to another system before he left the secure facility. But the warning was distracting. He logged a query in the module that provided communication with his AI.

The response came immediately, fast even for an AI, as if it had been waiting for the question.

_Open loyalty module confirmed correct, order signed AES-2028743786_.

Even as he processed this information, the warning flickered and faded, having been overridden by the AI. The order made no sense. Without a functioning loyalty module, the soldier presented a danger to his master. The soldier hesitated – by rights, he should be quiescent, simply waiting for his owner and orders, but the biomass was sending signals that his circuitbrain could not parse. Perhaps it was a test. The soldier built another query, this one more detailed, but before he could send it, the door opened

The man who entered was of average height with a medium-slender build that seemed reasonably fit, if perhaps a trifle undernourished. His clothes fit impeccably, as befit the sort of person who could afford a retrofitted cyborg servant. His hands were covered with calluses and small scars, though: an anomaly. His smile did not quite reach his eyes, but those eyes were as sharp and alert as a sniper’s, darting to every corner of the room and sweeping down the soldier’s body.

_He’s beautiful_ , the soldier thought in mild surprise, and then was more surprised by the thought itself. Where had that come from? Soldiers did not concern themselves with aesthetics.

When the man’s eyes met his, the smile widened, sharp and canny, and the man swung out his arm. Did he intend to strike the soldier? A test? –but even as he wondered, his body responded, lifting his own arm – the biomass one – to clasp the man’s hand. Muscle memory? He couldn’t recall having ever had such a reaction.

“Anthony Stark,” he said, and it took the soldier a moment to realize he was offering his designation. “Call me Tony,” the man – Tony – continued. “And you are…?”

The soldier must have had a human designation, once, before Hydra, but it was long-gone, burned out of his brain along with all his other human memories. The AIs he interacted with referred to him, when individual identification was necessary, by the serial number of his circuitbrain.

“That’s okay,” Tony said after a brief moment. He still hadn’t let go of the soldier’s hand. His touch was warm and pleasant. “We’ll think of something to call you. You’re mine now,” he continued. “Legally, that is. Because cyborgs aren’t allowed to run around on their own these days, without someone calling the shots for them.”

“My loyalty module is unlocked,” the soldier said. If there was a test, he wanted to pass it. He  _wanted_ to please this master. It mattered, somehow, that this owner know he was doing his best. It was a strange sensation.

Tony nodded. “I know,” he said. “I told JARVIS to unlock it once you’d passed the initial changeover scans.”

JARVIS, his circuitbrain informed him, was the human designation of his new AI controller. It made sense that his new owner would have access to the soldier’s functions through the AI. But it still didn’t make sense that the soldier’s loyalty module was open. “Why?” he asked.

“Well, that’s the question, isn’t it? It’ll take a while to explain though, and I’d rather not do it here. Let’s get you home, first, and then you can ask all the questions you like.”

If the soldier had to pause a second or two longer than he should have to process that instruction, still overwhelmed with confusion, Tony didn’t seem to notice. “Acknowledged,” he said. “Prepared for transport.”

Tony released his hand. The soldier missed that touch immediately, and was dismayed at his own reaction. He forced his thoughts to stillness and followed Tony from the room, barely marking the surroundings as they traversed halls and turned corners, until they finally emerged into startling sunlight.

The soldier squinted in reflexive reaction and his biomatter eye ached as the pupil adjusted. Tony didn’t even slow down, just slipped a pair of tinted glasses from his breast pocket and slipped them onto his face. “Got someone for you to meet,” he said as they approached a small land vehicle.

The vehicle’s door opened and a large human man got out, much taller and broader than Tony. Perhaps he was a bodyguard, though a human bodyguard would be useless against a cyborg’s enhances strength and reflexes.

“This is Steve,” Tony said, and there was something odd in his voice, something the soldier couldn’t identify.

The soldier looked at the big man, intending to add the facial recognition parameters to his memory banks for future reference– and the world dropped out from under him.

He knew those blue eyes,  _knew_  them as surely as he knew his own…

his own…

_**CRITICAL SYSTEM CORRUPT—** _

blue eyes

_**MEMORY ACCESS FAILURE—** _

knew his own

_**MEMORY OVERRI—** _

a small boy with blue eyes and a smile like sunlight

— _ **SYSTEM OFFLINE.**_

his own _ **—**_

__**—**_ name_.

Bucky’s knees had given way, but he didn’t care. He knelt on the cold pavement and looked up into blue eyes that he knew as well as he knew his own name, even through the tears that were clouding his vision. “Stevie?” he whispered.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I  _loved_  this prompt, but it really needs a full novel-length fic to really do it justice. I... might have some notes in my WIPs file about how I'd go about doing that...

**Author's Note:**

> Given how many stories this holds, I've decided I'll break these down by year, so I'm marking this as done. Don't worry, though, I'm still writing, and will start up a 2016 collection when I've got a few to post! In the meantime, do visit us out at [imaginetonyandbucky.tumblr.com](http://imaginetonyandbucky.tumblr.com), or check out my personal blog at [everyworldneedslove.tumblr.com](http://everyworldneedslove.tumblr.com)!


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